No Place for a Revolutionary
by Sarahbob
Summary: Enjolras is convinced even the people in the darkest corners of Paris should know about the revolution. His friends warned him not to go there alone and he is going to find out why. Will the Amis be able to glue him back together if he falls apart? (Features Enjolras, the Amis and a little bit of Valjean)
1. Chapter 1

_Hi guys! I got another one-shot for you, although I might expand it if people like the idea and when I've finished my other multi-chap fic 'The weakness of being fine'. It's again slightly AU and a bit darker than my other fics, set some time before the revolution._

They told him not to go there. Not in that part of Paris. Not alone. But of course, he would not listen. Convinced that even in the darkest corners of the city, people needed to hear about the revolution, he had dismissed his friends' objections. Or rather, he had promised them he wouldn't go there. And yet, here he was, stack of pamphlets in his hand, walking firmly through the streets.

"It is daylight, what on earth could possibly happen?" he thought to himself, trying to convince himself, although he felt a feeling of discomfort crep up on him as soon as the streets grew emptier and the atmosphere turned murkier.

He made sure the few people he did encounter, got themselves a pamphlet and some of his encouraging words. "We give demonstrations every week and we meet every day at Café Musain", he told them, hoping to get himself some new recruits.

After only little more than an hour however, he gave up. There was hardly anyone showing him any interest and most of them even seemed afraid of him.

Sighing he turned around and started to make his way back to the café. Halfway the journey home he had the uneasy feeling he was being followed and yet, every time he turned around, he saw nothing. He kept a firm hand on his knive however, just in case. "Stop being paranoid", he told himself sternly, "Just keep walking."

A few minutes later however he heard noises. Kissing noises, right behind him. He spinned on his feet and was met by a solid fist, smashing his jaw. Shocked, he stumbled a few feet back, blinking fast, willing the stars he saw away. He recollected himself however and was prepared for the second punch his attacker tried to throw at him. He ducked aside and dug his knive deep into the strangers' shoulder.

The man growled and then chuckled darkly. "Pretty boy knows his moves", he purred mockingly.

Enjolras breathed heavily, keeping his distance from the man and raising his knive. "Stay away from me", he said, not nearly sounding as convincing as he had hoped.

The man only grinned his evil grin and lunged forward again. The minute Enjolras tried to block his movement however, he felt both his armes being yanked back with force. He couln't help but let out a surprised shout.

He struggled, but it was no use. The man holding him was strong and didn't loosen his grip. The other man walked right up to him, his face only inches from Enjolras'. "What is a pretty boy such as yourself doing here?", he asked.

Enjolras looked right at him, refusing to cast down his eyes, but he didn't say anything. He felt the pamphlets being yanked out of his hands. "Well, well, well, we've got ourself a revolutionary Antoine", the man chuckled.

"Fiery little lad, aren't you", the man behind him, Antoine apparently, breathed in his ear.

"Well monsieur 'I fight for the people', you just got yourself in all kinds of trouble."

Enjolras just kept looking at the man in front of him. Refusing to show any sign of fear. Inside, his mind was racing however. He cursed himself for not listening to his friends. He thought of any possible escape attempts, but the arms of the man behind him felt like lead and he knew he wouldn't be able to pry himself loose.

"Cat caught you're tongue, pretty boy? Or do you not deem us worthy to talk to?". He felt a hand stroke his hair and he could almost taste the foul smell the man was producing.

When the man reached out and pressed his body against Enjolras', he lost his cool however. "Get the hell away from me if you know what's good for you, you filthy streetrat", he snapped.

"Oh my, a dirty mouth Louis, this is going to be fun!", Antoine laughed.

The man in front of him, Louis, didn't back off but only pressed against him harder, caressing his body with his hands. Enjolras breathing sped up, his heart beating so loud he was surprised the man couldn't hear it. "This can't be happening", he thought.

When a hand slipped under his vest, he closed his eyes in disgust, trying to kick the man away with his legs, but it was no use. They were strong, and even though Enjolras could put up quite the fight, he was no match for them both.

"We are going to enjoy this, pretty boy. Taking all the time we need."

Enjolras remained quiet, but kept struggling. He refused to make this easy for them. As soon as they had rid him of his vest and shirt and had him pressed against the wall however, his mind seemed to comprehend what was about to happen. And his mask faltered.

"Don't do this. Please, you don't want to do this", he said brokenly.

"I think we do", one of them purred against his ear.

Enjolras felt himself shake with fear, hating himself for it, but praying someone would come, would save him.

Just as Antoine started with his trousers he heard someone shout. "Hey! Hey, what the hell's going on over here."

Both of the other man were surprised by this sudden interruption and Enjolras felt their grip loosen. Not thinking twice, he took his chance and started fighting with all his might to get free.

Everything happened very fast after that. The unkown man had joined the fight, pulling Louis and Antoine away from him. He was strong. Stronger than any man Enjolras had ever seen. He was no match for the other two and they were soon backing away, fear evident on their faces and then they ran.

The unknown man turned around facing Enjolras, who was still trembling and trying to realize what the hell had happened just know, how close he came to being violated, how frightened he had been. Still was.

"Are you hurt?", the man asked.

Enjolras looked up, backing away slowly.

"Don't fear me boy, I am not going to hurt you", the man said. "My name is monsieur Fauchelevent."

Enjolras didn't say anything, he was still in too much of a shock.

Mr. Fauchelevent then reached down and picked up Enjolras' vest and shirt. He handed them over.

Enjolras felt himself turn red and he snatched the clothes away from the man, dressing himself as fast as he could.

"What were you doing in a place like this?", Mr. Fauchelevent asked.

Enjolras opened his mouth, but found himself still unable to found any words. He didn't need to, however, since the man catched eye of all the pamphlets spread on the street. He just nodded and looked up again, a compassionate look in his eyes.

"Thank you monsieur", Enjolras finally managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper. He tried to collect himself again, breathing in deeply a few times.

"Are you hurt?", the man asked again.

Enjolras shook his head. "I'm fine", he answered.

Mr. Fauchelevent's look turned sceptical, his eyes filled with disbelieve, something not all that different from Combeferre's look whenever he doubted Enjolras' wellbeing.

He didn't say anything about it however, but instead asked: "What is your name, if I may ask?"

"Enjolras", he answered. The man nodded, having heard the name before.

"Well monsieur Enjolras, I think it would be best to get out of here", he said.

Enjolras nodded. He wanted to get away from this particular place of Paris as soon as possible. His eyes darted around the streets, still feeling quite uncomfortable and not really looking forward to making his way back by himself. He did not, however, consider asking the stranger to accompany him.

Mr. Fauchelevent eyed Enjolras doubtingly. He saw the internal struggle of the boy in front of him. Being obviously scared out of his mind after what had happened, after what could have happened, but on the other hand being to proud to want to show any weakness. He decided to make it easier for him.

"Do you want me to accompany you?", he asked gently.

Enjolras looked up at him and then back at the streets. "No sir, it's not necessary, I can manage my way back", he said hoarsely.

"I have no doubt you can, but I am headed that way anyway and I would feel more comfortable to guide you back to safer places myself", he smiled friendly at the blonde boy, for that was all he still was, a boy. Hardly any older than his daughter.

Enjolras didn't say anything but instead just nodded shortly. Inside he couldn't feel more relieved.

They did not speak during the journey back. Enjolras was too preoccupied with overthinking what had happened. He felt ashamed and uncertain of himself. And above all he felt stupid. Because that was what he had been. He should have listened to his friends.

Mr. Fauchelevent knew better than to press the boy with questions.

As soon as they arrived at the Café, another boy came running towards them.

"Enjolras, where the hell have you been? What happened?", he shouted, noticing the bruises and his pale face.

Enjolras seemed to have completely hid behind a mask of marble again. "I'm fine Courfeyrac, don't worry", he smiled, "This here is just a result of my own clumsiness. I tripped, that's all."

He felt Mr. Fauchelevents look of disbelief burn in his back and prayed he would stay silent.

Courfeyrac couln't help but laugh. "You? Clumsy? I don't believe it!" he exclaimed, putting his arm around Enjolras' shoulders.

Enjolras couldn't help but flinch, but only Mr. Fauchelevent seemed to notice.

The blonde revolutionary turned around, looking at Mr. Fauchelevent. "Thank you monsieur, for your help".

He looked at the man a second longer, silently nodding his gratitude again and then disappeared with Courfeyrac inside the café.

Mr. Fauchelevent looked after him. The boy was obviously nowhere near fine, looking still very shaken. He wondered if he should say anything to him, to his friends, but then decided against it. It was not his place. Enjolras obviously did not want his friends to know what had happened.

He sighed and silently prayed for the boy, before turning around and making his way home. He had a strange feeling, they would meet again some day.

_So there you have it. As I said, I have ideas for expanding this story, but I don't know if you like it and I first want to finish my other story. I do hope you liked this one though! Let me know :) _


	2. Chapter 2

_(Hi guys! Thanks for all the lovely reviews, you have no idea how much they mean to me! I've decided to continue this story, but please no that my main focus will be on 'The weakness of being fine', so until I've finished that one, don't expect regular updates. But anyway, hope you're happy with this new chapter! And thanks again for your support!)_

Enjolras followed Courfeyrac in to the Café. He took a few deep breaths before making up the stairs to the backroom, where everyone would no doubt be full of questions of why he was late and how he got those bruises on his jaw.

He still shook too much for his liking and he willed himself to calm down. _Nothing happenend_, he kept telling himself. _Shake it of, Enjolras, this never happened_.

"Look who I found just outside the Café", Courfeyrac shouted as soon as they arrived upstairs.

All the Amis looked up, worried glances thrown his way. Enjolras forced himself to smile at them.

"I know, I know, I'm late", he said, waving his friends away, "I lost track of time and then I tripped over my own two feet in my haste to get here."

Someone at his right snorted loudly. He glanced at Bahorel, raising his eyebrows. "What's so funny?", he asked annoyed.

"No offense my friend, but you are not telling me that a bruise like that has formed because you fell over", Bahorel said, shaking his head. "I know my business and that ugly thing you got right there was given to you by a fist, a hard one, by the looks of it."

Enjolras blinked owlishly at Bahorel, not knowing what to say at that moment. His mind was racing however. _No. No they cannot know, they cannot find out. Think of something Enjolras, anything._

"Is that true Enjolras? Did someone hurt you? Were you robbed? Who did that to you?", all his friends were once again focusing on him, firing questions and demanding answers.

Enjolras laughed again and waved them away. "Alright, alright", he chuckled, "nothing gets by you, does it Bahorel? Fine, it's true, I got punched in the face. I just didn't want to tell you, because you would immediately worry like this and there really is no need."

"Well, I think that's for us to decide now, don't you think Enjolras?", Combeferre stated, "Go on, start talking."

Enjolras sighed. He had a story ready, now the only thing he needed to do, was to bring it as convincingly as possible, so they would lay of him and he could start to forget what had actually happened to him that night. Because, how he wanted to forget.

"I was on my way here when I heard a woman shouting for help", he started, "You know me, when someone calls for help, I answer, so I followed her voice and found indeed a young woman and two men who were obviously trying to get with her. So I tried to help her, get those men away from here and got hit during our struggle."

He looked around. His friends looked sceptical. _Come on, come on. Give me a break already_, he thought.  
"Why couldn't you just say that right away? I don't understand why you would come up with such an unbelievable story in the first place", Joly said, seeming still quite unconvinced.

"Because, I know how you all get. You worry all the time, when I only have as much as a cough and you would be all over me if I told you I go tinto a fight by myself, now wouldn't you", Enjolras sighed frustrated.

"And the man?", Courfeyrac asked, "The one who was with you when you arrived at the Café?"

Enjolras frowned, cursing himself softly for forgetting to mention mr. Fauchelevent in his story. "He joined me in the fight a little later on", he replied.

He saw Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchange glances, which angered him. Why wouldn't they believe him. "Whatever", he looked at both of them, "Think what you think, I don't really care, now can we please proceed with the meeting?"

"Proceed?", Feuilly lauged, "We still need to begin. We were all waiting for you to show up, remember. You had an important speech prepared?"

_Damn_. _His had all forgotten about his speech!_ Enjolras really didn't feel like leading the meeting right now. His mind was all over the place and he doubted if you could get out anything meaningful on the cause that night. But he didn't really have a choice. If he admitted not to be able to do the speech, his friends – Combeferre and Courfeyrac especially – would know something else was up.

"Right, right", he said and he climbed atop a table, "That's what I meant".

The speech went well, all things considered. He didn't tell anything new really, just dived into his previous speeches he knew so well and made something out of them. His talk and the focus on the cause seemed to have more or less drawn the attention away from him.

He sighed his relieve and made himself comfortable in the corner of the room, pulling out his notes and pretending to be working on his studies. Pretending was all it was however. His mind kept racing back to those moments in the alley. He could still smell the men's breath, feel their touches roaming his body, stroking his hair, kissing his skin. He could hear them talk to him.

He closed his eyes in disgust, feeling his heartbeat and breathing speed up again. _Stop it Enjolras, don't do this to yourself. Nothing happened. Nothing happened. Forget it._

He all but jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he couldn't help but gasp a little, turning around in his seat.

Combeferre frowned worriedly, holding both his hands up as if in surrender. "Relax, Enj, it's just me", he tried a little chuckle. "What's with the startle?"

Enjolras breathed in deeply through his nose and smiled at his friend. "Nohting 'Ferre, I was just really deep in thought. You know, I have an important paper coming up, I need to do well. The teachers already aren't fond of me for disrespecting their teaching materials."

Combeferre raised his eyebrows and looked meaningly at the paper in front of his friend. "You've been sitting here for almost an hour now and yet you haven't put a word on paper."

Enjolras felt himself redden and scowled at Combeferre. "I told you, I was thinking! I need to think about what I want to write first."

"Right", Combeferre nodded as he took a seat next to his blonde friend.

"Stop looking at me like that 'Ferre, I'm fine", Enjolras said annoyed, picking up his pencil and starting to write furiously. "Are you just going to sit there watching me the rest of the night now?"

"No", the medical student answered. "I was just going to ask you if I could get you anything, something to drink or eat maybe."

"Thanks 'Ferre, but I'm good. I just want to work."

Combeferre watched his friend once more. "Fine", he mumbled then and he stood, walking towards Joly and Courfeyrac, although he kept an eye on his leader. Something was up. He knew Enjolras better than anyone and he was not himself right now.

His presumptions were confirmed when Grantaire walked up a little later to the blonde leader, embracing him in a tight bear hug, something you used to do when he got just that bit over tipsy.

No one would have expected the reaction it induced with Enjolras however. Usually he would be annoyed by Grantaire, then he would laugh a bit and return the hug before sending his drunk friend away again. Not this time however.

As soon as Grantaire threw his arms around Enjolras, the young blondes eyes opened wide in shock. He went completely rigid before struggling with all his might, yelling in panic. "Get the hell away from me! Don't touch me!" He flashed back to the alley, a body pressing against his. Hands pulling away his shirt, touching places no man should ever be touched unwillingly. "Get the hell off!", he roared.

Grantaire, more then a little shocked, stumbled backwards, looking at Enjolras with a confused look. The whole café went silent, everyone looking at their leader, who was now breathing fast and turned a bright shade of red before mumbling he had to go and he all but ran down the stairs and out the Café.

"What the hell?", all friends looked at each other in shock. Grantaire looked as he was about to cry.

Enjolras in the meantime cursed himself as he ran down the streets towards his appartement. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now you've done it! _

He felt tears prickle the back of his eyes, his whole body shaking. He wanted nothing more than to collapse and forget everything.

He never heard his friends shouting for him from the Café. He ignored Combeferre's loud knocking on his door, which he had locked the minute he arrived home, asking him to please open up.

He lay on his bed, willing everyone to leave him alone, the shame too overwhelminly. He finally succumbed to sleep when all went quiet outside. Combeferre obvioulsy giving up his attemps to get him to let him in.

One last thought plaqued his mind before he fell asleep. _How am I ever going to face them now? _

TBC.

_(This is for all you kind people who reviewed this story and wanted me to continue. I have decided to continue it, but please now that my main focus will be on my other story for now, so don't expect regular updates_ _:) Hope you're happy with this chapter though!)_


	3. Chapter 3

_(Thank you all for the kind reviews. They mean so much to me. I know there were some grammatical mistakes in the previous chapter. I apologize for that. I was in kind of a rush when I wrote that chapter, but I hope this one will be better written. Enjoy!)_

Enjolras woke up very early the next morning. It was still dark outside and the city was asleep. He lay on his back, eyes open, looking at the ceiling. Thoughts running back to that dreadful moment in the alley and the unfortunate event at the café it resulted into.

He felt utterly ashamed. There was no excuse for the way he had overreacted. Not according to Enjolras himself. _Nothing happened_, he kept telling himself. _Nothing happened that evening so why did I have to go and embarrass myself like that?_

And the looks. The looks his amis had thrown his way. Shock, confusion, anger, pity? He kept seeing Grantaire's depressed expression whenever he closed his eyes. Enjolras closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. His hands turned into fists to his side. They were going to want to know what was going on. They were expecting an explanation for his sudden outburst yesterday. _They cannot know_.

"You have to get this under control Enjolras", he whispered to himself. "It's the only thing you can do. Get it under control, don't think about it, and forget it ever happened." _It never happened._

But that was easier said than done. Combeferre had already followed him home, knowing something was up. Had been knocking and calling for him for at least two hours straight. Enjolras hadn't answered him once; had completely ignored his oldest friend until he had given up and left.

What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't hide in his room forever. His friends would definitely know something was up then and he wouldn't be able to have them believe some easy found, simple explanation. No, he had to go out and face them, even though at this point it was one of the hardest things he thought possible. Should he just pretend nothing was wrong? Act like everything was okay? Tell them that yesterday he was just really piqued and he really could not handle all the cheerfulness of the night? If he openly apologized to Grantaire, something he had to do anyway, they might believe him sooner.

Yes, he would just have to face them. Wave what happened the night before in the café away as if it was nothing special. Apologize for it and move on as if all was well. He just had to stop thinking about that alleyway, because really _nothing happened_. Get it under control, keep it under control and forget about it. He kept playing that same mantra in his head over and over again.

He was supposed to give a speech today together with Courfeyrac. Some of the other Amis would be there as well, handing out folders, looking out for new recruits. He had to face his friends before that however. He had to convince them first and then he could go on like he always had.

He took another deep breath, tried to steady his fast beating heart and willed himself to get some more sleep. It didn't take long for the darkness to take over again.

_He was running. Running away from them. He had only just escaped, but they weren't going to let him go so easily. It was dark, so dark, he couldn't see anything. He only knew he had to keep running, never stop, they'll catch you. It didn't work however, for suddenly his feet wouldn't move anymore. He was glued to his spot and no matter how hard he tried, he was not able to go on._

_No, no, no, he thought. He looked around and saw Antoine and Louis, closing in on him. He started panicking. He had to get out of there, he had to! Come on, come on, keep running!_

_Then he felt them. Felt their hands, smelt their breaths, heard them purr and moan. He couldn't get out of their grip, he coulnd't move at all and he knew they would be able to do whatever they wanted to do with him. They undressed him, kissed him, caressed him, tasted him, pressed against him._

_He was close to crying now, begging them, begging them to stop, but they wouldn't listen. The tears had come, streaming down his face when Antoine turned him around and shoved him harshly against the wall. It would happen now, this would mean the end of him as he was._

At the first thrust Enjolras' eyes shot open. He was panting, drenched in sweat, heart beating painfully in his chest. He sat up, pulling the soaked covers away from him. _It was a dream. Only a dream. _He could have cried tears of relieve right then and there.

His eyes shifted to the clock on the wall. Only 7 o'clock in the morning. He had slept two hours since he last woke up. There was no way he was going to sleep now any more. He felt himself shake all over his body, the adrenaline of the nightmare slowly ebbing away, leaving him a broken mess.

_They're still out there_. The thought hit him like a brick wall. He hadn't thought about that at all. They were still out there, they knew how he looked, who he was, they had the pamphlets! Enjolras started to panick all over again. He let his head fall in his hands and tried to remain calm. _Stop it Enjolras, you have to stop this. Get it under control, get a grip. Nothing happened._

He stood and walked towards the door, checking twice if it was really locked and then moved towards the wardrobe to find clothes for the day. Although knowing it was going to be a warm day, he pulled on several layers of shirts, a vest and his jacket. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel disgusted. He pulled a hand through his hair and turned away.

It was still too early to go out. He wouldn't meet his friends for at least another four hours and the speech he was going to give wasn't due till that afternoon. He needed a distraction till that time. Something that would allow him to think about anything else. Something that would help him forget about the events in the alleyway and the nightmare he had just woken up from.

He walked over to his desk, sat down, and tried to focus on his studies. He was already ahead of schedule, but there were always things to be done. Starting on an essay, he allowed his mind to be overtaken by arguments, images and ideals of his desired future for France. It didn't help him forget completely, but it offered a distraction and it was something Enjolras welcomed most at the moment.

A couple streets beyond, Combeferre was lying in his bed, eyes open, thoughts travelling to the night before. He had hardly slept. He was really shocked by his friends' behavior. Enjolras always had his emotions under control. He hardly ever opened up to anyone; didn't like to let people in too deep. Of course, he had seen his friend angry before. He had seen him upset, frustrated and even sad sometimes. But never in the quantity of yesterday evening. Never like that. Never in a state of complete panic. Not ever had he seen his friend flinching at a touch, jumping at a compliment, panicking after a genuine, friendly hug.

He couldn't quite lay his finger on it, but something was very wrong and he had to find out what. No doubt Enjolras would have a story ready today, but it better be a very convincing one for him to buy it.

He turned to the clock, realizing he had been lying and thinking like this for nearly two hours. It was nearly 9 o'clock now. Enjolras would probably be awake already. He never slept late.

Would it be wise to drop by right now? Enjolras ignored him yesterday. Left him standing outside his door for nearly two hours. He knew they had a meeting scheduled at eleven, a few hours before they were heading out demonstrating in public. Enjolras didn't like to be disturbed before a meeting. He was always preparing, always working on the last details.

But still. Something told him Enjolras needed his friend, whether he would admit it or not; liked it or not. He got out of his bed, dressed slowly and decided to make his way to his friends' apartment. He would just try to get Enjolras out for a coffee or breakfast before making their way to the meeting together. Maybe, if he played it right, Enjolras would open up to him. Tell him what was on his mind. What made him act the way he acted towards Grantaire.

Yes, he would go. And he grabbed his jacket of the wall and made his way outside.

TBC.

_(Well, that wasn't an easy chapter! Hope you liked it though. Let me know if you do, or if you don't. Reviews make my day and help me update faster! I really appreciate them. See you next time!)_


	4. Chapter 4

_(Hey guys! Another chapter done. I hope you will enjoy it! Thank you so much for all the comments on this story. I appreciate them a lot! Let's see how Enjy's faring today)_

Enjolras startled to a loud knock on his door. He turned around in his chair, holding his breath and hoping that whoever was there would just leave again.

"Enjolras?", a gentle voice came from the other side. "Enjolras, are you there?"

Combeferre. Of course it would be Combeferre! Always worrying and always noticing when something was up. Sometimes Enjolras wondered if the man could look into his mind. He sighed, what should he do now.

He really wasn't looking forward to confront any of his amis right now and especially not Combeferre. Especially not Combeferre alone. The man always seemed to manage to pull every secret away from him. _He cannot know. No one can know, nothing happened. _

Knocking again. "Enjolras, if you're there, I was only wondering if you might want to get some coffee before the meeting starts?"

Coffee. Yes, definitely Combeferre's way of figuring Enjolras out. His mind was racing now, he wasn't prepared for this. Maybe he could just pretend not to be at home. Maybe Combeferre would just leave him alone for a little while more.

Not likely.

"Enjolras, come on, I know you're there. Your landlady told me you hadn't left the building yet. Be a gentleman and just answer me. I don't really want to be standing here looking like a fool like I did yesterday."

Enjolras winced. That had been really rude of him. How was he going to explain that one?

He sighed heavily again, cleared his throat and then called out. "Just a sec 'Ferre, I'm coming!"

He would just say he had been asleep.

"Took you long enough, although you at least opened up this time", Combeferre mumbled annoyed when Enjolras unlocked the door.

"Sorry mon ami, I was asleep, just woke up actually", Enjolras said, faking a yawn.

Combeferre looked him sceptically and raised an eyebrow at his blonde friend.

"You sure about that?" He asked, motioning at Enjolras' clothes.

Enjolras blushed. _Damn it_, he thought. "Uh, oh well yes, I was awake already, but I most have dozed off while I was studying."

"Hmm" was all Combeferre said, not looking convinced in the slightest. "May I come in?"

Enjolras nodded and stepped aside, closing the door behind them. Combeferre didn't miss his friend locking the door ferviously again. He frowned, but didn't say anything.

There was an awkward silence next, something that rarely happened between the two friends. Combeferre eyed Enjolras carefully. He noticed the dark smudges under his eyes and the nervous behavior, fumbling with his clothing, not really knowing where to put his hands.

"Are you alright?", he asked tentatively. He hadn't planned on voicing his worries immediately, but he couldn't help himself. The entire situation made his alarmbells ring persistently.

Enjolras chuckled. "I'm fine 'Ferre, why would you ask?" He regretted that question right away when he saw Combeferre's look of utter disbelieve.

"Why do I ask?", he exclaimed, "well, you performed quite the show yesterday my friend. Not to mention you downright ignored me for two hours afterwards. You've been acting weird ever since you came in late yesterday evening and it's getting weirder by the minute. I assume you must not be okay, for you've been anything but yourself and I demand an explanation. You owe me that much, I think."

Enjolras opened his mouth and then closed it again. He didn't know what to say. _You've got to say something Enjolras, get it under control, play it cool. Nothing happened so suck it up. _

"Your right, that was rude of me, I apologize", he began, "I don't know what came over me yesterday. I guess I was still a little shaken over what had happened to that woman I told you about and I was irritated and lost in thought and that cheerful mood you guys were all in made me feel piqued I guess and it just brought on a very strong reaction when Grantaire embraced me so sudden."

He looked at his friend, who glanced at him, lips pursed, clearly doubting every word he was saying. "I don't think that explanation suffices that panicked reaction of yours and certainly not why you left me standing outside."

Enjolras got frustrated. _He always doubts my stories. That's because you're lying to him. He knows when you lie. But he cannot know the truth. He can't find out. _

"I don't care if you don't think it suffices. I'm telling you the truth and I apologize. I already admit it was very rude of me, but like I said, I was annoyed and I really didn't feel like seeing or talking to anyone anymore."

"And if you think I am not being honest then please, suit yourself, keep worrying about something that isn't there. But I am done having this conversation, I have a speech to prepare!", he spat out the last words.

Combeferre kept wearing that skeptical look on his face. "Hmm", was all he said again.

When Enjolras turned around, walking towards his desk again to prepare for the meeting, Combeferre spoke up again.

"What's with all those layers you wear? You know it's like a hundred degrees out, right?"

Enjolras didn't look at him. He only sighed and muttered. "I'm just a bit cold 'Ferre, maybe I'm coming down with something, I don't know, but stop worrying, I am fine."

It was quiet for a bit. Enjolras pretended to work on his speech but inside his mind was praying for Combeferre to just let it be. Leave it alone, all is fine. _Nothing happened, nothing happened_, he told himself again, fighting the images of last night away.

He hadn't heard Combeferre approach him and when he felt a hand on his shoulder he flinched violently, cursing himself again for not keeping his cool. _Damn it Enjolras, you are ruining everything! _

"That right there", Combeferre started, squeezing Enjolras' shoulder gently, "is why I don't believe you are telling me the truth. What happened last night?"

"Nothing happened, I told you that, just drop it 'Ferre"

"Did someone touch you?"

The question made Enjolras react way more violent than he wanted to.

"What the hell are you suggesting?", he snapped, glaring at his friend furiously. "For the love of God, what do you want from me?! I told you what happened! Nothing happened! Why do you always have to look for more? Nothing happened Combeferre, I am fine! And if you keep assuming things and making presumptions that are utter bullshit, I wish you would just leave already! I'm done with this!"

Enjolras was panting now, his heart beating fast in his chest. He realized this whole outburst had probably only confirmed Combeferre's thoughts. _How can he know? He cannot know! Nothing happened._ "Nothing happened", he spat through gritted teeth. And with that he grabbed his coat and stormed out the door, leaving a shocked and very concerned Combeferre behind.

Enjolras stormed down the street towards Café Musain, where the meeting would start soon. He was fighting against the tears, threatening to make their way down his cheeks.

_You stupid, stupid, disgusting brat_, he thought. _You can't do anything right! Now 'Ferre is never going to believe you. You should've just laughed his question away or something. _

Entering the Café he was met by a group of Amis who had apparently arrived early. Courfeyrac, Joly and Jehan looked up at him, shared a look and then greeted him carefully as if they were afraid of another outburst like the one he had yesterday. Grantaire sat in his regular corner, he probably hadn't left at all.

"Goodmorning mes Amis", he started. He had to do this right. Give them that same explanation he had given Combeferre - he couldn't change his story now - and bring it more convincingly. And then he would apologize to Grantaire.

"I would like to explain my behavior of last night. I understand I have left you all in kind of a shock?" He started his story. By the time he had told them, they looked less skeptical than Combeferre had, but they didn't seem as convinced as he would have wanted them.

"Are you sure you are okay now Enj? You still look a little shaken to me", Courfeyrac stated, eyeing his clothing for a minute but deciding not to comment on them, for which Enjolras was grateful.

"I'm sure Courf. Honestly, you all shouldn't worry, I promise I'm back to myself again."

He then approached Grantaire, who was eyeing him warily.

"Going to shove me again Apollo?", he asked. "You don't have to, I won't impose my love on you anymore" he added mockingly.

The words made Enjolras shiver however. That was exactly what those other men had done to him, with their eyes, their hands, their mouths. _Snap out of it Enjolras._

"No 'Taire", he said quietly, "I came to tell you that I was being unfair yesterday. I had no right to react like that and I'm sorry. It didn't have anything to do with you, I promise."

Grantaire looked at him for a minute. Confused. Then something lit up in his eyes and he grinned. "It is quite alright, Apollo, you are forgiven."

Enjolras nodded, then looked at the bottle in Grantaire's hand and sighed disapprovingly. "You're already drinking?"

"You made me sad. I had to", Granaire chuckled drunkily. It was the truth however.

Enjolras only shook his head and then walked over to his friends to discuss the plans of the day.

By the time the meeting started, everyone was hanging onto Enjolras' words. Everyone was focused on the demonstration of today and the tasks at hand. Everyone except Combeferre, who had been eyeing Enjolras with worry for the entire meeting, which made the blonde feel very uncomfortable.

When everyone made their way outside to do Enjolras' bidding and to bring the people together for the speech of Enjolras and Courfeyrac that afternoon, Combeferre made other plans.

He grabbed Courfeyrac by te arm when his friend went to make his way out.

"What's the matter 'Ferre? We need to go out! Today's an important day."

Combeferre didn't listen. "Courf, do you remember the name of that man who was with Enjolras last night when he arrived at the café? I mean, you saw them approach right?"

Courfeyrac thought for a minute. "Ah, yes! I believe his name was Fauchelevent. Why do you ask?"

"No reason", he said quickly. "Just curious. Now, come on, lets get outside and rally the people!"

Courfeyrac laughed and agreed, running out of the café shouting "vive la France!"

Combeferre went outside as well, only he had different plans. He was going to look for someone.

Tbc.

_(Well, there you go! Hope you guys are pleased with this chapter. Please let me know what you think! Ideas and advice are always appreciated. Till next time!)_


	5. Chapter 5

_(Hi there everyone! Sorry for the longer wait on this one. I've had all kinds of ideas for stories and it's hard to focus on one if there are more in your head. But luckily, here's another chapter. I really hope you like it. Enjoy!)_

Combeferre didn't have to search long. Apparantly Mr. Fauchelevent was a well-known gentlemen in Paris who was always willing to help the poor and needy. As soon as he got the address he started preparing what he was going to say to the man. He was sure something had happened to his friend that night when Fauchelevent brought him to the café but he didn't want to put too much pressure on the kind sir. He might not have had anything to do with it.

When he arrived at Rue Plumet, he took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He was greeted by a tall, friendly looking man, although Combeferre was certain he could be quite intimidating if he wanted to be. "Yes?", he asked, looking around nervously as if he feared there were more people around.

Combeferre cleared his throat. "Good day monsieur. My name is Combeferre and I'm terribly sorry to bother you on this day, but I heard you were the good man who guided my friend, Enjolras, back to the café last night and I was wondering if I might ask you a few things." Combeferre looked up at the man pleadingly. Fauchelevent seemed to remember who the medical student was referring to at once; he smiled sadly and opened the door further to let Combeferre in.

"Make yourself comfortable", Fauchelevent said and he motioned towards several chairs and sofas in the living room. "Can I get you something to drink? I was just about to make some tea." Combeferre sat down in one of the chairs and nodded thankfully. "That would be nice monsieur."

Fauchelevent nodded and left the room. Combeferre looked around the room, taking in the massive amount of books and felt a sparkle of excitement. He loved books. When Fauchelevent returned he found the boy in front of one of his bookcases. He smiled. "Seeing something you like?", he asked. Combeferre turned around quickly, putting back the book he had opened. "I was admiring your collection, monsieur, it certainly is impressive."

Fauchelevent smiled again and motioned towards the tea he had brought. "Please sit down monsieur Combeferre. What is it you wanted to ask me?" Combeferre walked back to the chair he was sitting on and sighed. "I am just worried. Ever since Enjolras has gotten back to the café yesterday evening , he has been acting different. Very different. He is being nervous, jumpy and angry all at the same time; he flinches when someone touches him and yesterday he completely panicked when one of our friends tried to embrace him. Of course I asked him about it myself but he just came up with this story that really doesn't fit the situation at all and he got really angry when I made a presumption myself. I thought and hoped that you might be able to help me figure this out, because he is my best friend and right now he is scaring me a little."

Combeferre looked up at the older man, who was at watching him with a sad and understanding look. He nodded when Combeferre finished talking and then asked: "What was that story Enjolras told you exactly?"

Combeferre repeated the story Enjolras had told them all earlier about the woman who was assaulted by some men and how Fauchelevent had joined him in the fight. "It's not true is it?" he asked.

Fauchelevent sighed and shook his head sadly. "Not entirely no, although some aspects are." He leaned forward and looked Combeferre in the eyes. "If you replace the woman with your friend, does the story fit his behaviour more?" Combeferre swallowed thickly and cast his eyes down. _He was right. He knew it. _

_

Enjolras in the mean time was standing upon a few crates alongside Courfeyrac. Both were passionately speaking to the people gathered around them while the Amis were handing out pamphlets.

"Look around you my friends! Look around and see! People are dying every day. By starvation, illness, cold or just because they had to work themselves to the grave. We need to do something. We cán do something! Join us and fight for your right to be free; to be treated equally!"

People were cheering him on and Enjolras finally felt like himself again for the first time since the events of yesterday evening. He was completely in his element and all his listeners seemed fully engrossed in what he had to say. But then one man spoke up and broke Enjolras' passionate flow of speech.

"And what is a pretty boy such as yourself going to do about it? Will you be using your pretty face to convince the king things need to change?"

Enjolras froze. _Pretty boy. Pretty boy_. The words echoed in his head and he felt all the blood drain from his face. He searched frantically for the face of the man who had spoken up, fearing he would find either Louis or Antoine, but saw neither. He lost complete control over his mind and once again flashed back to that dark alleyway. _Pretty boy. Pretty boy. _

"Enjolras!". The calling of his name brought him back to the present. He turned around to face Courfeyrac, who was eyeing him worriedly. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? You completely blacked out on me." The crowd had fallen silent as well.

Enjolras was breathing erratically. "I can't do this Courf", he whispered brokenly. "Please, just finish. I have to go. I'll be in the café." He ignored Courfeyracs attempts of getting him back and waved away the Amis who wanted to join him, all worried for their friend. "Please mes Amis, I need to be alone for a while. I'll be at the Café, just finish what we came here to do and I'll see you all later today." His friends reluctantly did what he told them, only Grantaire didn't listen and followed him back. He didn't care much for the cause Courfeyrac was now speaking of. He only cared for Enjolras and if he left, so was he.

They didn't speak during the walk back to the café, but Enjolras was grateful and felt strangely more safe knowing Grantaire was right behind him. _Maybe I should tell them. This certainly can't go on any longer. Maybe I can't do this all by myself. _

Combeferre listened sadly to Fauchelevent, who was telling him about the event. How he got there just in time. How scared Enjolras had been. How the two men got away. "I'm not sure how much they did do to him though. You would have to ask him that."

Combeferre nodded silently. His heart ached for his friend. Everything certainly made sense now. He had to go carefully about this. He needed to let his friend now he was there for him if he wanted to talk, but should put too much pressure on him. He cleared his throat. "Thank you monsieur, for telling me."

"You're very welcome. I wanted to say something yesterday to that other boy, but it did not seem my place right then." Combeferre nodded. He understood.

"I should go. Enjolras is giving a speech this afternoon and, well, I should just go. Thank you again for your generosity." Fauchelevent let the boy out. He felt sorry for causing Combeferre such distress. But at least now he was hopefully able to help his friend. "Don't be a stranger Combeferre", he said as he pressed his hand in goodbye. "You can always borrow a book." Combeferre smiled, thanked him again and left the house, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to get back to his blond friend.

TBC.

_(So here you have it. It's a little shorter than the other chapters, but it's my birthday today and I've got visitors in a few minutes. I wanted this chapter up though, because I've kept you all waiting long enough. Hope you liked it! Till next time!)_


	6. Chapter 6

_(Hi guys! Thank you so much for the birthday wishes, I've had an awesome day. My present to you: a new chapter! Really hope you like it. Enjoy!)_

Combeferre sprinted the streets of Paris. His heart was beating fast in his chest. Fear and worry settling in the pit of his stomach. Every fiber of his body screamed at him to get to his friend as soon as possible.

Mr. Fauchelevent had told him only half of the story. The part he himself was present for. But he told Combeferre he didn't know what had happened before that and seeing Enjolras' behavior something surely did happen.

_I knew it. I just knew it had to be something like this_, Combeferre thought as he forced his feet to run even faster. He had been around many assaulted and abused women – how could it be otherwise with a medical study – and he had recognized every single sign Enjolras was giving. The jumpiness, the denial, the anger, the anxiety; yes, they were all too familiar signs.

Apart from his heart wrenching worry, Combeferre also felt that tingle of irritation towards his friend. He had grown so tired of Enjolras' stubbornness. _We told him not to go there. We made him swear he wouldn't. Not alone_. But of course. When had Enjolras ever listened to them regarding his own safety or wellbeing. He should've known his friend would throw their advice in the wind. He should've known Enjolras was only promising them to get them off his back. _And now he has paid for it in one of the worst ways possible._

When he finally arrived at the square his friend should have been speaking at, his worry won over his anger immediately. He wasn't there! Enjolras wasn't there. _Where is he?_ Combeferre felt himself panic and ran towards Bahorel, who was handing out pamphlets with the other Amis. Courfeyrac was still standing on the crates, speaking of justice and equality, although concern was edged across his face and his heart wasn't in it.

"Bahorel, where's Enjolras? He is supposed to be up there with Courfeyrac!".

Bahorel raised his eyebrows. "Where have you been? You were supposed to be here as well, handing out pamphlets like the rest of us", he said weary. "If you would've just been here, you'd know why Enjolras isn't up there anymore."

"I had someplace to be", was all Combeferre said. "Now please, I need to speak to him. Where is he?"

Jehan then joined their conversation with worry filled eyes. "He went back to the Café. He was here at first, speaking next to Courfeyrac as planned, but then suddenly he just froze, completely blanking out on all of us. When he seemed to realize he was in the middle of a speech, he asked Courfeyrac to finish it and then he just left." Jehan's eyes were now filled with tears.

"And you just let him go? By himself?" Combeferre exclaimed in disbelief.

"We didn't _just let him go_ 'Ferre. Of course we wanted to join him!", Joly huffed. "But you know how he gets. He said he wanted to be alone for a bit and that we had to finish the demonstration, otherwise it would've all been for nothing. If we all went with him, he would've been furious. And he promised to meet us at the Café later this afternoon. And besides, Grantaire did go with him, despite what Enjolras said, so he is not all alone."

"Why do you so desperately need to see him 'Ferre? Did something happen?", Bahorel asked.

Combeferre sighed deeply. He couldn't share with them. Not yet. He had to speak to Enjolras first. But he didn't want to outright lie to them as well. They were friends, just as worried about their leader as he was himself. Especially Courfeyrac, who was now throwing concerned glances his way every second, clearly desperate to leave his position on the crates and join the conversation.

"Yes, something happened. I want to talk to Enjolras first though, you understand."

The Amis fell silent. If their worry wasn't already spiking, it surely was now. Bahorel frowned, Joly let out a small gasp and Jehan was on the verge of breaking into tears. "Okay…now we're really worried", Bahorel mumbled. Combeferre only offered an apologetic smile.

"Finish up here as Enjolras said and then come meet us at the Café", Combeferre mumbled. "I'll go right now though, I really have to speak to him." And with that he turned around and left his friends with confusion and fear for their leader. Courfeyrac all but looked like wanted to jump from the crates and get a hold of the medical student but Combeferre motioned for him to stay where he was.

Enjolras and Grantaire in the meantime had reached Musain. They hadn't spoken at all during the walk there, but Enjolras had unconsciously moved closer to Grantaire, seeking protection unintentionally. This didn't go unnoticed by the cynic. Neither did the nervous glances around the streets nor the clenched fists nor the erratic breathing. Everything about Enjolras' behavior was out of the ordinary, even though he tried his hardest to be as stoic as always. It sent shivers up the drunkards spine. He wasn't used to this. He didn't really know how he had to act around this Enjolras. All he knew was that he really didn't want to leave the blonde alone.

"What is up with you Apollo?", he whispered softly, not really realizing he had spoken the words aloud until he felt Enjolras flinch beside him. Enjolras didn't answer, but only shook his head in an almost defeated manner. When they reached the backroom of the Café, Enjolras looked around uncomfortably, as if not knowing what to do now. Grantaire noticed his breathing becoming even more irregular. His marble statue was shaking; he was biting his lip and all kind of emotions flashed across his face. There was anger, confusion, fear, defeat. Watching his God crumble felt as if a solid fist was pinching his heart.

When he placed a hand on Enjolras' shoulders, his idol cracked. The shoulders of his fearless blonde leader started shaking and his hands were covering his face. It was then that Grantaire realized Enjolras' was crying. It was a sort of panicked sobbing and out of reflex Grantaire's strong arms took the young blonde in his arms. Enjolras completely fell apart then. He cried and buried his head in Grantaire's shoulder, muttering defeated sentences of: "I can't do this anymore. I see them everywhere. I can't get them out of my head. I close my eyes and they're there. I feel them. I can't…I just can't. I don't know what to do." And then a soft and broken: "Please, help me."

Grantaire was completely shocked by this sudden outburst. And those three words made his heart break into a thousand pieces. For now he just held his Apollo. He held on tight to the person he was always fighting with; who he never saw eye to eye with; who he would've never guessed to seek comfort with. And then there was a light in the back of his head. _The flinching, the panicking, the freaking out over simple things, the words he had just spoken. _Grantaire knew them all too well and anger – more like rage – fired in his heart. He clenched his teeth, ignoring the memories of a long ago past trying to make themselves known again.

He tightened his hold on the blonde leader and silently spoke: "You're safe. I promise they'll never touch you again." Enjolras only cried more.

It was then that Combeferre bolted up the stairs and froze at the sight of the two opposites. He met Grantaire's eyes and knew the cynical alcoholic was aware of what had been bothering their leader. He silently walked up to them and put a hand on Enjolras' shoulder. Enjolras looked up with teary eyes. They shared a look that said more than a thousand words and Combeferre knew at once Enjolras was ready to talk, albeit reluctantly. The blonde swallowed thickly a few times and then let himself be pushed into a chair. Grantaire and Combeferre both took a seat opposite of him.

No one spoke for a while. Grantaire and Combeferre both giving Enjolras all the time he needed. Their leader's eyes were fixed on the ground. He was taking deep breaths to calm himself down and kept biting his lip and the inside of his cheek. His hands were fumbling with the hem of his shirt. He didn't look up when he spoke. His voice trembling and quiet.

"I went to the district you asked me not to go. I know I shouldn't and I sincerely regret it", he began. Clenching his teeth at the memories that once again attacked him.

"I was convinced that even in the darkest corners of Paris people should know about what we're trying to achieve. I didn't tell you I would go, because you would've never let me go there."

"And with good reason!" Grantaire blurted angrily. What on earth had gotten into Enjolras to go there alone. It was downright stupid. Combeferre held up his hand and nodded at his friend to continue.

"There weren't many people interested in what I had to say, so I decided to turn back and leave it be." He closed his eyes for a second, pressing his lips together to stop them from trembling. He shook his head and continued, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

"During my walk back I noticed I was being followed, but every time I turned around there was no one there. Then when I turned again at some point there was this guy smashing his fist onto my jaw, nearly knocking me off my feet, but I managed to avoid another punch and I was able to dig my knife deep into his shoulder." He dragged a hand over his face. "Didn't help much though", he whispered.

He didn't want to continue. He didn't want to tell them the rest. He felt so ashamed and stupid. Combeferre gently took his hand, making eye contact, silently forcing Enjolras to go on. He did.

"That man, Louis was his name, maneuvered me so that I walked backwards right into the arms of some other guy, whose arms were made of lead, I swear. And they…they just…" He took a shaky breath, eyes filling once again with tears. "They started touching me all over. With…with their hands…and their mouth and…" He trailed off. He was squeezing Combeferre's hand so hard at this point, the medical student had to keep himself from wincing.

"They managed to rid me off my upper clothing. And I tried to fight them, I really did, you have to believe me 'Ferre, I did, but they were just too strong and they could do whatever they wanted to. But they uh…they never got too far…I mean, you know, they never…Mr. Fauchelevent was there in time. But they…I still feel them, I see them." Tears were now once again successfully leaking out of his eyes. Before either Grantaire or Combeferre could say anything, he looked at them, eyes wide with fear, losing all his fearless leader characteristics but instead transforming into a frightened child.

"They're still out there. They know who I am, they know where we meet. They've got the pamphlets. And I'm really scared." His voice cracked and he let his head drop again, covering his face with one hand; the other still entangled with Combeferre's.

TBC.

_(Whoosh! Well, the word is out there! And Grantaire is going to be pissed, as are the other Amis once they find out. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope Enjolras and the other Amis weren't too much out of character. I felt like when something like this happens to you, even a strong person as Enjolras can crack. Please, please let me know what you think! And till next time!)_


	7. Chapter 7

_(Hi guys! Another update, are you happy? I felt like I had to show part of last chapter from Enjolras' point of view as well, as I think it is important to know about his internal struggle between staying strong and falling apart. Hope you like it, lot of Enjy!angst)_

Enjolras was disgusted with himself. What was happening to him? Now he couldn't even finish a simple speech? Just because his stupid mind was playing stupid tricks on him? Get yourself together, for Heaven's sake, he told himself. You're making a complete fool of yourself. You're freaking out over nothing. _Nothing happened!_

And yet no matter what he told himself, he got more nervous with every step he took. Every time he looked up, they were there. Standing in an alley; hiding behind a window; smirking at him from across the street. _Stop it, stop it, stop it. _He was internally yelling at himself. From the outside however, he noticed his breathing speed up. He clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking and he kept throwing anxious glances around him, just to be sure no one was jumping him from behind or from the side.

Unconsciously he moved closer to Grantaire, raveling unintentionally in his big posture; his irascible behavior and most of all his ability to protect him if necessary. _God, what are you doing_, he asked of himself, but still he moved closer. He didn't speak to Grantaire and Grantaire didn't say anything either, but he did glance worriedly at Enjolras every now and then. A look Enjolras had never really seen on the cynics face and certainly not directed towards him. He didn't like it. _Nothing happened. _

When they neared the Café, Enjolras started to walk faster. He desperately wanted to be inside, to be hidden from the sight of strange faces. Grantaire sped up as well, wanting to keep up with Enjolras. When they arrived outside the Café, Grantaire mumbled: "what is up with you Apollo?" Enjolras felt himself flinch. _How does he know? Nothing is up. Nothing happened._ He couldn't get the words out however, his tongue feeling like parchment in his mouth. So instead he just shook his head, pressing his lips together and walked into the Café, going up the stairs to the backroom of the Musain.

He heard Grantaire's footsteps behind him. _Couldn't he just leave him alone? _Enjolras didn't turn to look at Grantaire. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. _Did he want to be alone? Can you even be alone anymore? _He clenched his fists again. _Of course you can! Stop being such a child, get yourself together. Nothing happened, you are fine. _

He could yell at himself all he wanted. It didn't matter. He felt like a glass vase, ready to shatter at any moment; at any touch. He tried to pull himself together. He tried to keep control, but his shoulders started shaking and he felt that all of a sudden familiar prickle behind his eyes. He looked around the Café which had always been his safe haven. _Not anymore. They know._ His breathing was more than a little irregular now. He was once again on the verge of panicking. He was about to crack and all in front of the man he always fought with.

He hadn't noticed the tears were already leaking out his eyes. He cursed himself when he did. _You've got to be kidding me. Why do you have to be so weak? No wonder they were able to jump you. You deserve it, it's your own fault!_ His thoughts only strengthened his panicked feelings. When he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, he knew he would lose it. It was too much. He so desperately wanted to feel safe. He felt confused and lost and he didn't recognize himself anymore. His shoulders started to shake more convulsively and he buried his face in his hands, trying to hide away from the world. _You are disgusting_.

He then suddenly felt two strong hands turn him around and hold him tight. His mind screamed at him to push away; to get his act together; to act like an adult for God's sake. But his body reacted completely different. He all but clung at Grantaire, desperate for those strong arms to shield him away from the danger he had found himself in. He pressed his face in the drunkards' shoulders and sobbed. The more he cried, the more he hated himself and the more he cried again.

If his body betrayed him, his mouth did even worse. He ratted himself out to none other than that cynic who didn't believe in a word he said; who always mocked him and who he would've never thought to seek comfort with. He was babbling, giving away his secret like it was nothing. "I can't do this anymore. I see them everywhere. I can't get them out of my head. I close my eyes and they're there. I feel them. I can't…I just can't. I don't know what to do." And then to his horror he started begging. Begging like a lost, helpless, weak child. "Please…Please, help me…please, help me." He wished he could've just died right there. He had never before felt this ashamed. Well except for the events in the alleyway.

Grantaire seemed to be completely shocked. _Of course he's shocked. Now he's really never going to leave you be. You've given him even more reason to mock you_. But although Grantaire didn't say anything yet, he did tighten his hold on Enjolras and then out of nowhere pressed a comforting kiss on the top of his head. And if Enjolras still had some small hope that Grantaire didn't figure everything out right then and there, that last bit of hope was shattered as the cynic murmured: "You're safe. I promise they'll never touch you again."

_You are beyond pathetic. How can you ever lead a revolution if you fall apart at the smallest of setbacks? Nothing happened! Nothing happened and yet here you are, one broken, sobbing mess. _He looked up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Combeferre. His best friend who had already guessed what was wrong even before he had completely failed himself in front of Grantaire. His best friend, who always knew when something was wrong; who always knew when he was hiding something.

Combeferre placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and they looked at each other. They always seemed to communicate better non-verbally and now was no different. For once the angry voice in his head shut up and suddenly he felt like talking. He wanted to get it off his chest. He needed his best friend. Needed him like he never had before. And with a small nod, he felt himself being pushed in a chair.

He looked at his friends. Combeferre was all worry and compassion, which Enjolras didn't like. Grantaire's face was harder to fathom. There was worry there, sure, but also something that resembled frightening anger. Anger, but not directed towards Enjolras. They both gave him time to get his act together and start telling them the story. That voice was back, cursing him, forcing him to keep his mouth shut, but he started talking anyway.

Combeferre offered him his hand and he reluctantly took it. Once he had hold of it however, he held on tight for dear life. And he told them. He told them everything. Well not everything, he was keeping the details to himself, but that didn't matter. They could no doubt draw their own conclusions.

"They're still out there. They know who I am, they know where we meet. They've got the pamphlets. And I'm really scared." He noticed his voice crack and he cursed himself for it once again. Covering his eyes with one hand, the other still entangled with Combeferre's. Combeferre squeezed it reassuringly. "I know", he said softly.

Enjolras suddenly lost it again. "Yes, but it's not normal! I don't understand what's wrong with me. I have no control over my emotions, I'm angry and scared and confused and I don't know how to handle it. And I hate myself for it, because nothing happened. Not really! And still I'm so weak that I'm falling apart, even though I try so hard to stay in control and…"

He was brusquely cut off by Grantaire. His eyes spat fire and he all but growled: "don't ever say that again." When Enjolras looked at him in confusion he added: "Don't ever say that nothing happened. Enough happened Enjolras! God, I could just smack you, you know that. You blame me of thinking low of myself but look at yourself. You're downplaying something that really, _really,_ doesn't need any downplaying and you're thinking yourself weak because you're frightened. You better stop that right now Enjolras, or I swear to God above I'll knock some sense into you. Which I actually should be doing anyway, since you went there on your own."

Enjolras was surprised at this outburst to say the least. For the first time in his life, he had seen fire and passion in Grantaire's eyes and it was all because of his wellbeing. He didn't understand.

"The other Amis are heading this way Enj", Combeferre said softly. "They're worried out of their minds, especially Courfeyrac. They deserve to know."

Enjolras shook his head. He couldn't. Not again. Telling it once was quite enough and he really didn't want all the pity and compassion it would evoke in his friends. That familiar feeling of panic made itself present again and he shook his head more violently. _They can't know. Nothing happened. I don't want them to know as well._

Without a second though he wrenched his hand out of Combeferre's grip and bolted towards the stairs. He was running blind, not knowing where he was running to, he only kept hearing those same words inside his head. _They will know how weak you are. How you can't even control yourself. They will pity you. They will see you're not fit as a leader. You. The weakling who freaks out over nothing. Nothing happened._

Tears were clouding his vision and he only stopped running when he was out of breath. He took a moment to collect himself and then looked around. _Where on earth am I?_ He didn't know this part of Paris. He hadn't been here before, which was weird, because he had been practically everywhere.

Then he heard a voice; a voice so familiar; a voice he had been hearing in his head every second since last night; a voice that send shivers up his spine and caused his stomach to turn violently.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our favorite revolutionary? I think we still have some unfinished business to do, don't you Antoine?"

TBC.

(_Yes. They're back. Well, at least for a little while. Hope you've enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think. I appreciate your opinion so much and I'm really curious to know if you like it or hate it. So please let me know! Till next time, might take a little longer…)_


	8. Chapter 8

_(Thank you all once again for the kind reviews, I treasure them. Well, you should all be very happy I don't seem to be able to let this story go! While I should actually be working very hard on my studies, all I want to do is write. So here goes, hope you like it! It's a bit dark, but nothing too graphic I hope. Enjoy!)_

Combeferre did not expect Enjolras' violent reaction as he ripped his hand out of the medical students grip and ran out of the backroom and the Café. He called after him, but it was no use. His friend had already gone.

When he turned around, he noticed Grantaire was still sitting in the same spot. He seemed lost in thought, anger evident on his face. Combeferre noticed the drunkard tremble slightly and he cautiously approached him. "Grantaire? Is everything alright?" he asked.

Grantaire looked up. Eruptive eyes met concerned ones. "I think I know who they are", he spoke through clenched teeth. Combeferre confusedly shook his head. Grantaire's breathing sped up. "Those men who did this to Apollo, I think I know who they are and if I'm right, they're not letting go so easily. He shouldn't be out there alone. I have to go after him." Grantaire stood and was about to sprint after Enjolras when Combeferre held him back.

"Hold on a second. What are you talking about? How can you possibly know them? And what now, you're going to face them by yourself if you're right? You don't even know where Enjolras went. He probably went back to his apartment." But Combeferre felt his hope at that slip away as he remembered Enjolras' panicked expression. No doubt the blonde had just ran blindly to get away as fast as possible.

Grantaire pushed past the medical student. "Now is not the time 'Ferre. I know them from before. From before I joined the Amis. They are dark memories I don't want to elaborate on now."

Combeferre's worry only grew at this. What was he talking about? Everything was going too fast. First he learned his friend was assaulted, now Grantaire was telling him his friend was still in danger. A danger he knew from his past? "Whatever you're thinking Grantaire, you can't go alone. Let me come with."

Grantaire shook his head. "You need to stay here, in case Enjolras comes back. He will need you then. I'll go with Bahorel. I'll pick him up right now and explain on the way."

"On the way where?" Combeferre exclaimed, grabbing the cynic by his arm, not willing to let go yet. "Grantaire, you have to give me more than this! Where are you going?"

"I told you now is not the time 'Ferre! The sooner I get to those men, the better. As long as they are out there, Apollo isn't safe. I'm serious Combeferre, let me go. I'll explain later." Combeferre reluctantly did as Grantaire told him and let go of his arm. He watched him grab a pistol from their weapon collection and with one look back, he was gone.

Combeferre fell back in one of the vacant chairs. His heart was beating loud in his chest and his throat felt constricted. He was scared. No, he was terrified. He didn't want to be stay here and do nothing, but Grantaire was right. If Enjolras should return back to the Café, he needed to be there.

* * *

Enjolras turned around so fast, his head was spinning. His heart dropped at the sight of them. They were there. They were really there. _What should I do? Do I run? Do I stay and fight them?_ He was terrified. His feet were glued to the ground. He cursed himself for not staying at the Café. _You are beyond stupid Enjolras. Now see what you got yourself into. You only deserve it._

"Ah, how cute, he is so glad to see us he's at a loss for words", Antoine cooed as he took a step forward. Louis grinned, rubbed his hands and pursed his lips seductively.

Enjolras in response took a step back. And then another one. And before he knew it, he had made his decision. He was running. Running as fast as he could. He didn't know where he went, all he knew was that he had to get away from them. _Don't look back, _he told himself. _Just keep running. _

But of course, he did look back and wasn't that a big mistake. They were right behind him and seeing them so close only fired Enjolras' panicked feelings. He didn't notice the rocks on the street and he slipped. He fall hard, scraping his knees against the pavement and smashing his wrist as he tried to catch himself. _Now it's over_. _Now they've got you._

But he wouldn't go down without a fight. He might not stand a chance, but he would give it his best shot. They had caught up and where now approaching him more slowly, devilish smirks on their faces. Antoine lunched forward first, and Enjolras was able to avoid him, while kneeing him in the stomach. He was also able to smash Louis nose and he stood his ground for quite some time, but while his attention was focused on Louis, he felt a hard punch to his thigh, then a hard shove in his back and he gasped. They overpowered him and despite his struggling, there was nothing he could do. They pushed him to the ground, his face pressed against the street and as they were holding him down, Louis whispered in his ear: "Love the way you struggle, all so pretty, but you're not getting away that easily again, boy. We always get what we want." Enjolras then felt a sharp pain at the back of his head and everything went black.

* * *

Grantaire was sprinting his way back to the square the Amis were gathered. He knew Bahorel would be the one to take with. If things should go wrong, he was momentarily his best ally to have in a fight. Just like Grantaire, the man had a temper and did not shy away for a punch or two should he feel like it.

To his relief, the Amis were still there. They were wrapping up however, that much was clear. Courfeyrac was no longer speaking nor was he standing on the crates. When they spotted Grantaire, they approached him immediately. All with the same questions about Enjolras. Was he alright? Did something happen? Was he ill? Grantaire ignored them all. There wasn't any time. He pointed at Bahorel. "You", he said commandingly, "I need you, come with me."

Bahorel frowned in confusion. "What? Why? And where to?"

"I'll explain on the way. We need to go now." Without waiting for an answer he turned towards the others. "Combeferre is at the Café, go to him, he'll explain about Apollo."

"And where the hell is Enjolras?" Courfeyrac asked, slightly annoyed that not only Combeferre, but now Grantaire as well was keeping him in the dark about his friends' condition.

Grantaire did not answer. He turned once again towards Bahorel. "Let's go." And then he was off. Bahorel shrugged towards his Amis and then followed the cynic. If Grantaire was asking for his help, something serious had to be going on. And he was certain it had something to do with their blonde revolutionary. Both men walked off at a fast pace, leaving the rest of the Amis gaping after them.

"So", Bahorel said as they were walking towards a particular shady part of Paris, "care to explain what on earth is going on here?" Grantaire nodded and told his friend about what Enjolras had told him and Combeferre earlier. Telling the story again made his blood boil and he felt Bahorel's temper rising as well.

"But, that man, Fauchelevent, he was there in time? They didn't go all the way?" Bahorel asked. Grantaire shook his head. "They went far enough. No one touches Apollo. They'll pay", he said through clenched teeth, his voice a dangerous growl. Bahorel nodded his agreement, he was more than ready to bash some skulls, but then another question rose. "And how do you know these guys?"

"From a long time ago", Grantaire answered, without slowing down or looking at the other man. "They've tried some shit with me. A few times", he admitted quietly. Bahorel froze and gasped. Grantaire turned around, grinning wickedly. "I said tried. They seemed to think I was an easy target. But they never truly got what they wanted from me, although I admit they got more than I was willing to give. I've encountered them a few times – like I said, they don't back off easily – but then I joined you and I didn't find myself in those dark parts of the city anymore. But by the way Enjolras was describing them…I'm just sure they are the ones. And they'll suffer." He once again picked up his pace and Bahorel was now even more so than before willing to keep up.

* * *

Enjolras came to with a steady pounding in his head. He cracked his eyes open with difficulty and his stomach felt like it was turning itself inside out and then doing multiple flips. His memory was blurry, although he right away knew something had to be very wrong. He was tied up with his arms above his head, angled uncomfortably. When he took in his surroundings, reality hit him in the face like a brick wall. _Antoine and Louis. _They had him.

And right at that moment, someone behind him spoke up. "'Bout time you woke up. We can hardly contain ourselves. We can't wait to play with you, you know. Such a pretty boy." Louis trailed his tongue along the shell of his ear. Enjolras tried to squirm away, but it was no use. "Got you all to ourselves now, no one to interfere."

Enjolras didn't respond. He didn't trust his own voice. And besides, what was he to say? He felt himself tremble. Was it from pain? Or from fear? Could be both, either way, he wasn't going to let them know. If the only thing he could do was to deprive them of the pleasure of making him react, he would hang on to that for dear life.

The man behind him chuckled darkly. "Yes, we've got all the time we need." He then faced Enjolras and crashed his lips onto the revolutionary's. Enjolras didn't make a sound aside from a surprised gasp. _If he could only die after they were done with him_, he wished.

* * *

"Do they live here?", Bahorel whispered as they came to a dark house. It looked deserted and filthy.

"No", Grantaire answered silently. "They used this place. You know, for doing their thing. Took me here once after they knocked me unconscious and…" He suddenly shut his mouth. He heard them. _They're here. And they're not alone. _When he peeked through the window he felt his heart skip a beat. They had him. They had Enjolras.

He motioned for Bahorel to look inside as well and he watched the man's eyes glare in anger when he saw who was in there with them. "We need to do this carefully", Grantaire whispered. "You have to wait outside, I'll go in and.." He wasn't able to finish his sentence. The door of the house opened and Antoine stormed out, taking Grantaire of guard, and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Grantaire couldn't hide, but he did saw Bahorel slip away in a dark alley unnoticed.

"And if my day couldn't get any better!", he grunted, smashing a solid fist unto Grantaire's jaw. "Louis, you are never going to believe who I found eavesdropping outside our door." Grantaire was pushed roughly inside, but before the door closed, he managed to drop his pistol outside. It was all in Bahorel's hands now.

He was pushed on his knees. His eyes locked with those of Enjolras, who was now struggling more than ever against the ropes holding his arms up. Before he could speak he felt something at the back of his head. A pistol of their own no doubt. "You get to watch as we have fun with your friend over there", Antoine purred in his ear and Louis grinned darkly before tangling his hands in Enjolras' hair and attacking him once again with his mouth.

_Please hurry Bahorel_

TBC.

_(And there we are again. Hope you liked it! I want you to know that this story won't be too graphic, because I don't like writing that and I don't want really to change the rating, although I do warn you that next chapter will be a little – just a little – more dark than this one. So don't worry and please bear with me. And please please please let me know what you think of this chapter! I'm so nervous and curious to know what you guys think. Till next time!) _


	9. Chapter 9

_(Hi people! I've got another chapter for you guys! I must say that I haven't been feeling all that happy and optimistic for the past few days. I'm studying and researching a topic regarding the Holocaust for a presentation due this week. Writing my stories offers me a sort of escape from that dark subject. Although, this chapter isn't all too light either. I really hope you like it though. Enjoy!)_

Combeferre was waiting anxiously in the Café. His mind was spinning. _Where had Grantaire gone? Where was Enjolras? Was he okay? Shouldn't I do something? _His pondering was abruptly ended when a panicked Courfeyrac came running up the stairs, followed by Joly, Jehan, Bossuet and Feuilly. _No Bahorel_, Combeferre thought, _then he must have gone with Grantaire_.

Courfeyrac ran straight towards Combeferre, grabbing the medical students by the shoulders and hoisting him up. "You're going to talk right now 'Ferre", he spoke, "I want to know what is going on. Why are you and Enjolras and now Grantaire being weird? No more beating around the bush, he is as much our friend as he is yours!" Courfeyrac was panting, eyes wide with concern and looking kind of shabby with his half open vest, sweaty shirt and dented hat.

"If you'll just calm down and take a breath, I will tell you Courfeyrac. And the rest of you", Combeferre responded tiredly, taking of his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's been a long day, give me a minute." He motioned for them to sit down and then he slowly started telling the rest of the Amis the less detailed version of the story. He kept it short and factual, not thinking it fair towards Enjolras to elaborate too much on it. That was firstly up to Enjolras, should he want to.

The Amis went silent for a moment. Joly and Bossuet clasped hands and Jehan turned pale from shock. Courfeyrac had his eyes cast down, shaking his head dejectedly. When he looked up again, his face was all fear, compassion, worry and anger, much like Combeferre had been feeling ever since he had been standing outside Enjolras' door the previous night.

"So, you found him here with 'Taire. And then? I don't see Enjolras anywhere around here and Grantaire came to drag Bahorel away earlier without mentioning what the hell was going on", Courfeyrac mumbled, his hands shaking a little, whether it was from anger or from shock, Combeferre didn't know. "They went after them, didn't they? After those men?"

Combeferre nodded. "Grantaire told me he knew who they were. That he knew them from years ago, but he hasn't told me anymore than that. Only that they're quite persistent in their desires and that Enjolras is in danger as long as they're walking freely."

Joly frowned. "As long as they're walking freely? What is he going to do, report them to the police? It's not as if they are but the least bit interested in something like that."

"Something tells me that, seeing as he took our temper fighter Bahorel, he's not planning on doing anything in accordance to the law", Feuilly mumbled. None of the Amis seemed to mind that much. All of them wishing pain and evil upon the two men.

Combeferre didn't say anything, but just nodded again. "What on earth are we still doing here then? Shouldn't we help? Shouldn't we be out there looking for Enjolras?", Courfeyrac exclaimed.

"A few of you can look around the neighbourhood sure, but I'm staying here. He needs me when he gets back", Combeferre said. "He'll need you too Courf, he won't admit it, but he will."

Courfeyrac knew. Of course he knew. The three of them had been the closest of friends ever since they met. He nodded his agreement and then reached out to pull the medical student in an embrace. They held each other for a moment, both drawing support from it. When they broke apart, they kept their hands entangled, neither willing to lose contact just yet.

* * *

Grantaire's blood was boiling. He was forced on his knees , hands tied behind his back. He was shaking with anger and any person in his right mind would get the hell away from him as soon as they could. Any person except Antoine and Louis. And why would they. They were the ones with the gun.

Antoine pushed the end of his pistol against Grantaire's temple with one hand. His other hand was tangled in Grantaire's hair, forcing his head up, so he was looking at Enjolras, who was struggling against the ropes pulling his arms up, and Louis, who was now trying to push his tongue past Enjolras' closed lips.

A stream of curses and death threats flowed from the drunkards mouth, causing both Antoine and Louis to laugh. "You haven't changed a bit, have you", Antoine mumbled in his ear. "We all know how much you want it, Grantaire, how much you want that blonde friend of yours. I can see it in your eyes, how you want him just like we do." Grantaire turned his head and spat Antoine in the face. "I'm going to make you wish you never said that", he growled. All the response he got was a punch in his face.

Enjolras eyes widened in horror when he heard the sickening crack of bone as Antoine's fist collided with Grantaire's nose. "You see that pretty boy? You see how we can do with your friend whatever we want? Better listen to me closely if you don't want him to get hurt. Open your mouth." Enjolras once again looked back at Louis through narrowed eyes. Louis got closer and when he was merely inches away, Enjolras thrust his head forward, successfully head butting his assaulter in the process.

Louis yelped and Enjolras smirked. "Nice one Apollo", Grantaire chuckled, his heart filled with pride for Enjolras' fortitude. It dropped however when he watched Louis punch Enjolras repeatedly in the stomach, causing the younger man to wince and shudder, but he never made a sound. "Want to play it that way? Wel'll play it that way, pretty boy", Antoine whispered in Enjolras' ear. "Antoine, make the drunkard scream."

"My pleasure", Antoine answered and he pointed the pistol at Grantaire's shoulder and pulled the trigger. Grantaire did his best not to make a sound, but when Antoine pressed hard against the wound, he couldn't help but groan in pain.

"Open your mouth or your friend dies", Louis said devilishly, focusing once again on the blonde in front of him. Enjolras had no doubt they would indeed kill the cynic and he didn't want Grantaire to die. Drawing a shaky breath, he obeyed and Louis attacked at once. He tugged at Enjolras' blonde curls as he deepened his kiss. His other hand travelled down and pressed against the front of Enjolras' trousers, causing the revolutionary to gasp in shock. When Louis started to move his hand, rubbing Enjolras through his the fabric of his pants, Enjolras' eyes widened in shock and Grantaire lost it again.

"Get your filthy hands away from him, or I'll swear to God!" They were empty threats. And everyone knew it.

Enjolras tried his best to stay calm, to keep control, but he was downright terrified and on the verge of panicking. His eyes shifted briefly to Grantaire, who was watching back with both fear and anger. With horror Enjolras noticed his body respond to Louis touch. He was mortified. _What is wrong with you? What sort of sick person are you?_ He closed his eyes in self-loathing and disgust and tried his best to not let any sound escape his lips.

"Like that don't you?" Louis chuckled. "Been pretending all the time? Telling us you don't want it, but now you show us the truth don't you?" Enjolras opened his eyes and looked back at Louis in horror, while shaking his head. "Yeah, you like it", Louis said again as he pressed a little harder, causing Enjolras to let out a defeated whimper. The moment the sound left his lips, Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut and tears leaked out.

"Don't you dare listen to what he says Enjolras", Grantaire shouted. "Don't believe a word of it, it's not true, it doesn't work like that." It was exactly how they used to do it all those years ago. Trying to trick their victim into thinking he wanted it too. His words seemed to fall on deaf ears, as Enjolras turned his head further away in shame.

Louis removed his hand from Enjolras' trousers and freed one of the blonde's arms. Enjolras gasped at the pain and felt his arm tingle as the blood flowed back. The man in front of him once again pressed his mouth against Enjolras' and kept a firm grip on his arm to keep the blonde from attacking him. When he pulled back again he said: "You're going to return the favour". He chuckled at Enjolras' look of shock and disbelief and he unbuttoned his trousers. "Try anything and you know the consequences", he threatened.

Enjolras swallowed thickly and was about to do as Louis told him when a shot rang out and the glass of one of the windows shattered. Both Louis and Enjolras looked up in surprise to see Antoine crumble to the floor. Bahorel was bursting through the door, gun raised high, aimed at Antoine and Grantiare, who had already untangled his hands from the rope, was storming towards Louis, giving the latter no chance to defend himself or to escape.

Everything happened so fast, Enjolras didn't understand. He watched as Grantaire smashed his fist multiple times on Louis face and was suddenly aware that he was shaking violently. He reality of what happened hit him hard and caused him to completely turn into himself. Shutting everything and everyone around him out.

Then Bahorel appeared in front of him. His friend gently turned Enjolras' face away from Louis and Grantaire and started to cut the ropes holding Enjolras' other arm up. He then took all of his leaders weight and helped him outside, worry growing bigger and bigger with every step they took. _He's in shock_. "It's okay, Enjolras. It's going to be okay, I've got you", he tried to sooth his friend, but Enjolras hardly acknowledged him. "Grantaire!", Bahorel shouted looking back over his shoulder.

"I'm coming. Get him out of here, I'll be there in a bit. I need a minute with them. Just a minute", Grantaire said darkly. Bahorel glanced at the two men, both already unconscious. He pursed his lips and nodded, wanting nothing more than to join his friend in the fight, but instead he manoeuvred Enjolras outside as he let Grantaire fulfil every promise he had made to Louis and Antoine earlier.

TBC.

_(There we go! Enjolras is safe, at last! I do hope this chapter wasn't too graphic to be changed to M-rating. I don't think so, but if you disagree, please let me know. Next chapter we'll see a bit more from Bahorel's point of view and Enjolras' reuniting with the Amis. I really, really hope you appreciate this chapter. Please let me know what you think. I have to admit, it's hard to write something like this)_


	10. Chapter 10

_(Hello there, my dear readers! All these kind reviews make me want to write and update faster and I really, really have to study! I am so grateful for all the response I get, you are all awesome! Here's a chapter again. Hope you like it, enjoy!)_

Bahorel only just managed to hide in a dark alleyway when the door of the house slammed open and one of the men grabbed Grantaire by the collar of his shirt. Grantaire struggled, but couldn't get out of the man's strong hold.

"And if my day couldn't get any better", he heard the man grunt. Bahorel winced in sympathy when a fist collided with the drunkards jaw. He wanted nothing more than to jump from his hiding spot at that moment and show the guy that he had made a mistake messing with his friends. But Grantaire shot him a subtle, though warning glare and so Bahorel stayed where he was.

It was the smarter thing to do as well when he saw the man pull a pistol from his waistband and point it at Grantaire, before forcing him inside. Had he jumped forward, the man had no doubt shot either him or Grantaire and who knows what the guy inside with Enjolras would've done. _Why didn't you bring a second pistol Grantaire?_ Bahorel cursed under his breath as he saw the door close again.

He smirked however when he noticed the pistol that lay in front of the door. _Well done_, he thought as he praised the cynic's subtle movements and quick thinking. But before he could do anything, he first needed to think this through. Those men now had two of his friends and it pissed him off to no end, but it would be no use to barge in there without any knowledge of how many weapons those men had themselves. And with Enjolras tied up and a gun aimed at Grantaire, he couldn't afford to make any mistakes. There was just too much at stake.

_I first need to get that pistol. _He quietly sneaked closer to the house, sliding to the ground as he reached the windows. He held his breath as he reached for the gun, now merely inches away from him. When he got hold of it, he took position beneath one of the windows next to the front door. From here he could vaguely hear Grantaire's voice, cursing and threatening the men holding him and Enjolras captive.

Just when he was about to peek through the window to take in what exactly he was dealing with, he heard a shot rang out. He dropped back to the floor, heart beating loud in his chest._ Was someone shot? Enjolras? Grantaire? Did they see me?_ Bahorel kept as quiet and still as he could. He pricked his ears and felt his worry spike up a notch when he heard Grantaire groan in pain. Then another voice, a little louder and more commanding this time then before.

"Open your mouth or your friend dies"

Bahorel knew at once it was directed at Enjolras who had probably been fighting his assaulter all the time. _Until now. _Bahorel cursed again. He cautiously rose from his position, peeking sideways through the window. He could only see Grantaire from here. He was on his knees with his hands tied on his back, gun pointed at his head. His shoulder was bleeding but if Bahorel saw correctly it was only a grazing shot. He noticed the drunkard fumbling fervently with his ropes and by the looks of it, he nearly got himself loose.

_So one pistol aimed at Grantaire_, he thought. If it was only one gun, he would be able to handle it. He could shoot from where he stood right now and wound the man badly enough for him to no longer form a danger. But he didn´t know Enjolras´ position. _What if Enjolras´ assaulter has a pistol pointed at him as well_. He couldn´t afford to guess. He couldn´t afford to lose either one of his friends.

"Get your filthy hands away from him or I'll swear to God!" Bahorel's heart froze when he heard Grantaire shout. _No. _

He ran as fast as he could to the other window, hoping to have a better view of Enjolras from there. He did. And what he saw made his blood boil. He already knew his leader was tied up with both hands over his head – Grantaire had pointed that out to him earlier. Bahorel's eyes went wide in anger however when he saw the man press his hand along Enjolras' trousers, while whispering in the blonde's ears.

"Don't you dare listen to what he says Enjolras", Grantaire shouted. "Don't believe a word of it, it's not true, it doesn't work like that."

_No gun. No gun! Enjolras' assaulter had no gun_. Bahorel didn't waste any more time as soon as he was certain of that. He took position at the window with a clear view of Grantaire and the man with the gun. He noticed Grantaire's hands were nearly untied and so he took aim. And he shot.

Bahorel hit his target successfully. He immediately burst through the door, raised his pistol once again and aimed it at the man who was now crumbled to the floor as he watched Grantaire storm towards Enjolras' assaulter.

He approached the fallen man and slammed his pistol hard against his skull, sending the criminal straight into unconsciousness. He then turned and strove towards Enjolras, who was still tied up with one arm, shaking violently and staring in pure horror at Grantaire's and Louis.

Bahorel carefully placed himself in front of his blonde friend and turned his head away from the fight. His heart clenched in worry as he untied Enjolras' other arm and took his friends' full weight. _He is not even acknowledging me_, he thought as he noticed his leader empty, wide-eyed stare. "It's going to be okay Enjolras, I've got you", he tried to sooth, but he got no reaction whatsoever.

They needed to get out of here. They needed to get Enjolras away from this horrid place. _He needs Combeferre_. He turned around and saw Grantaire place the men – both unconscious – next to each other. He had grabbed the pistol his capturer had been holding and took aim.

"Grantaire!" Bahorel shouted.

""I'm coming. Get him out of here; I'll be there in a bit. I need a minute with them. Just a minute", Bahorel heard the cynic say darkly. He nodded and supported Enjolras as he led him outside. He felt the blonde next to him flinch violently when two shots rang out. _They had to get out. They had to get away from here now. What if someone heard those shots?_

Bahorel anxiously took in their surroundings. He didn't see anyone, but he still wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, if only for Enjolras' sake. He watched Grantaire walk out of the house. The man looked angrier and more dangerous than Bahorel had ever seen him. As soon as he reached Enjolras however, his face softened and he placed himself at the other side of the revolutionary, taking part of his weight.

"Are they dead?" Bahorel whispered when Grantaire looked at him. Grantaire pressed his lips together for a moment and then said: "They won't be hurting anyone ever again." It wasn't a complete answer, but it was satisfying enough for Bahorel. "I hope you've made them suffer." Grantaire's mouth curled into a dark smile at that. "Don't worry."

Grantaire then focused his attention to Enjolras and tried to get him to say something, but the blonde didn't look up nor did he answer. He was shaking so bad his legs were hardly able to keep him upright and so he let his friends support him. Grantaire shot a worried look towards Bahorel who shook his head and shrugged in return. _This was bad. _

Enjolras in the mean time hardly noticed what was going on. His mind kept replaying what had happened with Louis and he felt horrible for it. He was vaguely aware of the pain and exhaustion his body was experiencing and he felt himself lean heavily on both Grantaire and Bahorel but he couldn't get himself to focus on anything other than what had happened in that house. He couldn't bear looking at either of his friends, the shame too overwhelming and swallowing him whole. _God, if I could only just die right now_.

No matter how both Grantaire and Bahorel tried, they weren't able to get Enjolras to acknowledge them in any way. When they finally reached the Café, they noticed Courfeyrac sitting outside with Jehan, both looking worried and anxious. At the sight of the three men, Courfeyrac stood up and ran towards them only to be stopped by a warning look from Bahorel. He swallowed thickly when he realized something bad must've happened.

Instead of going for his usual hug, Courfeyrac carefully took his trembling friend from Bahorel's and Grantaire's hold and sat him down. The slight cringe when he touched Enjolras didn't go unnoticed and Courfeyrac felt his heart break. He kept a firm hand on Enjolras' shoulder and looked up at his other Amis. "Get Combeferre, now", was all he said.

Jehan was already flying up the stairs, tears streaming down his face at the sight of his broken friend. Bahorel nodded and threw a concerned look at Enjolras. He carefully squeezed the blonde's shoulder and then followed the poet up the stairs. Grantaire stood hesitatingly for a second, not really wanting to leave Enjolras right now. When his eyes met Courfeyrac's however, he understood it was better for Enjolras to be with his closest friends for now.

When he walked past the revolutionary, Enjolras suddenly reached out and grabbed Grantaire's wrist. He didn't look up or say anything, he just held him for a second, and then let go again. Grantaire knew it was as much of an acknowledgement or show of appreciation Enjolras was capable of giving at this point. And it was enough for him, more than enough. He gently ruffled the blonde's hair and whispered "Head held high, Apollo". Then he slipped inside the Café as well, leaving Enjolras and Courfeyrac alone outside to wait for Combeferre.

Courfeyrac sat down next to his close friend, making sure their shoulders and knees were touching, but keeping enough distance to prevent Enjolras from feeling cornered. Together they waited for the medical student.

TBC.

_(So there we go. Poor Enjolras is not handling everything very well. I hope this chapter reached your expectations, I really do. Please, please let me know what you think. I appreciate it so much. Till next time!)_


	11. Chapter 11

_(Hello my friends! Your reviews, follows and favorites mean so so much to me! I am forever grateful and you've made me really happy. Here's another chapter of No Place for a Revolutionary. Hope you like it, enjoy!)_

Combeferre was getting restless. _Where on earth are they? _It had been almost two hours since Grantaire and Enjolras had left the Café and neither of them had returned. It was starting to drive him mad with worry and he had started pacing the backroom like an anxious parent waiting for news of his sick child. _What if something had happened? I don't even know where they went._

It was at that moment that he heard someone running up the stairs. Turning around, he was met with a teary eyed Jehan, trying to speak, but momentarily not able to form any words. Combeferre strode over to him. He was about to question the young poet, when Bahorel appeared at the top of the stairs, followed by a haggard looking Grantaire.

Combeferre's heart skipped a beat and he reached out, grabbing Grantaire by the shoulder and examining the wound. "What happened? Are you okay? Did you find Enjolras?" He was all questions, not giving either Bahorel or Grantaire the chance to actually tell their story.

Grantaire pulled away from Combeferre and raised his voice to interrupt his medical friends' ranting. "Calm down 'Ferre, I'm fine, it's just a grazing shot. Besides, I'm not the one who needs your help right now."

Combeferre looked up at that, eyes going wide as he realized who Grantaire was speaking of. "Enjolras? Is he here? Where is he? What happened?"

Grantaire motioned towards the stairs. "He is outside with Courf, but wait a minute", he said as Combeferre tried to slip past him, about to fly down the stairs to get to his friend. "We first need to talk to you. Won't take long, I promise, but there are some things you should know first."

Combeferre looked from Grantaire to Bahorel, who nodded silently and the three of them moved to a corner in the backroom, away from the worried faces of Joly, Feuilly, Bossuet and Jehan. His heart sank as he listened to Bahorel's and Grantaire's story.

"I think he might be in some sort of shock, 'Ferre", Bahorel said sadly. "He hasn't spoken to either of us at all and he's just staring in the distance, not focusing or acknowledging either of us." Grantaire shook his head. "He did grab my arm just now, but he didn't say anything nor did he look at me, but I don't know, it must mean he at least knows what's going on right?"

Combeferre didn't know. All he knew was that he wanted to go outside to his young blonde friend. That friend who always entrusted him with everything; who allowed himself to open up to him once in a while, only to him; that friend who he'd known so well for four years now. He couldn't bear it if that friend didn't acknowledge him or didn't let him share in his pain. He wouldn't believe it.

He thanked both Bahorel and Grantaire for enlightening him and then moved towards the stairs. He noticed the slight trembling of his legs and cursed his own nervousness. This was Enjolras, for God's sake. He knew how to approach Enjolras. If anyone knew, it was him. But something in the back of his head told him it wouldn't be so easy this time.

* * *

Enjolras was vaguely aware of the presence of Courfeyrac next to him. He had yet to determine if that presence made him feel safe or cornered. He was cold and confused and he didn't seem able to think clearly of anything but what had happened only a short time ago.

Something in his mind told him he no longer had to fear either Antoine or Louis, but his heart told him a whole different story. He was being pulled apart from the inside. Like an internal battle between wanting to get his act together, forget and stay strong and crumble down, lie in the dark and never see anyone ever again.

And no matter how hard he tried to focus on the here and now; on Courfeyrac sitting next to him; on Grantaire and Bahorel saving him, all he could see was Louis; all he could feel was Louis and it made him feel sick. The shame was still there, but it had been lulled to a small fire in the light of the overwhelming disgust and self-loathing.

Courfeyrac was speaking to him. He knew he was. But he just couldn't manage to make out the words. They didn't got through to him. They were being drownedout by his own internal screaming. He cringed unconsciously when he felt a soft arm around his shoulders and in response, the arm left again.

It took him a minute to realize it was no longer just Courfeyrac sitting next to him. Another person had crouched down in front of him, trying to make contact with his eyes. Combeferre. His best friend was looking at him worriedly, eyes leaking concern, but Enjolras just looked straight through. He couldn't face Combeferre, even though God knew he wanted nothing more than to hide away in his friends' embrace. Instead, he felt himself sink deeper in his own mind, blocking out the voices and worried looks of his friends in the process.

* * *

When Combeferre came outside, he was met with a heart breaking image. Courfeyrac, the always happy and cheerful friend, seemed to be completely drained of joy. His face set in painful worry and helplessness. And then there was Enjolras. His blonde friend who always stood proud, shoulders strong and head held high. Who always had that light burning in his eyes and a passion filling his heart. Enjolras now matched a broken image. His shoulders were slumped, his head hang low. His hair was covering his eyes, hiding them away from the world. They seemed empty, but for the horrors replaying themselves in his head over and over again. Only for him to see.

A piercing pain shot through Combeferre's heart at the sight of the two of them. He silently approached them. Courfeyrac looked up. _He doesn't even know what happened yet. _Neither Bahorel nor Grantaire had told Courfeyrac anything. Not with Enjolras between them. But of course their joyous friend did not need much explaining to notice something very bad had happened. Combeferre send the brown haired boy a quizzical look; a look that asked everything without needing any words. Courfeyrac shook his head sadly. He then moved to place an arm around Enjolras' shoulder, demonstrating the cringe it induced and then pulled away again.

Combeferre took a deep and shaky breath. Bahorel and Grantaire were right. This was bad. Very bad indeed. He silently crouched down in front of his blonde friend, searching his face in the hope of making eye contact. He wasn't surprised when he failed.

"Has he said anything to you?", Combeferre asked Courfeyrac, while placing a gentle hand on Enjolras' shoulder, ignoring the shiver that went through the blonde's body.

Courfeyrac shook his head. "No, nothing, it's almost like he doesn't even know I'm here."

Combeferre nodded, focusing his attention on Enjolras again. "He knows", he said silently. The medical student took in Enjolras' posture, searching for visible injuries. He noticed the head wound, Bahorel had told him about and carefully reached out to trace the large bump at the back of his head. Enjolras rejoiced a little, but showed no other sign of acknowledgement.

Next, Combeferre noticed how his friend kept a protective hold on his left wrist. The wrist he had hurt when he had fallen in his haste to get away from Louis and Antoine, although Combeferre of course did not know that. He removed Enjolras' right hand from the wrist and felt for any broken or cracked bones. When the blonde let out a sharp gasp, Combeferre carefully let go again. "Broken", he murmered.

On top of it all, Enjolras was obviously exhausted. "We need to get him home", Combeferre said to Courfeyrac. And by home he meant his own apartment, not Enjolras'. Courfeyrac nodded and helped the medical student to pull up Enjolras. Combeferre told him to ignore the flinches. "He needs our help getting there Courf."

And so they set of at a slow pace. Enjolras in the middle and Combeferre and Courfeyrac at his side. Much like Bahorel and Grantaire had done earlier when they brought the blonde back to the Café. Luckily it was only a small distance to Combeferre's apartment. The stairs proved to be a little difficult, but they managed without having to carry Enjolras all the way.

Once inside, Combeferre gently maneuvered Enjolras to his bed. He made quick work of treating the head wound and splinting his wrist. Removing Enjolras' clothes proved to be very hard as it triggered a sort of panic attack in the blonde. So Coufreyrac and Combeferre settled with only getting him out of his jacket and shoes. They then gently pushed him down and pulled up the covers.

"Go the sleep Enjolras", Combeferre whispered silently. "We'll be here when you wake up."

Enjolras didn't say anything, but he turned on his side, away from his friends, and curled in on himself. He kept his eyes open however. He feared sleep and the nightmares that would come with it.  
"Is he going to be okay 'Ferre?", he heard Courfeyrac ask Combeferre in a small voice.  
Combeferre sighed and swallowed thickly. "He has to be."

Neither of them noticed the quiet tears that now flowed freely from Enjolras' eyes.

_(And another chapter done. Hope you liked it, please let me know! Reviews make me update faster, haha, and I'm always happy to hear your ideas. Till next time!)_


	12. Chapter 12

_(Hi guys! Thank you again for the reviews, I've said it a hundred times, but I'm going to say it again, they mean A LOT :)! So thank you! Here's another chapter, hope you like it!)_

Combeferre and Courfeyrac sat down at the table in Combeferre's apartment. They talked in hushed voices, so Enjolras could sleep soundly. Both friends kept throwing worried glances his way, wishing there was more they could do for him.

"So, did Bahorel and Grantaire tell you what happened today? I was with Enjolras, so they didn't tell me, but judging on his behavior, I'm guessing it's nothing good?" Courfeyrac asked Combeferre silently. His voice as low as possible, so that Enjolras couldn't hear what they were talking about.

Combeferre looked over at his blonde friend and sighed. He took off his glasses and wiped a tired hand across his face. "They got him again. You know, the men I told you about earlier?"

Courfeyracs eyes went wide and he nodded, tears welling in his eyes. _How could this happen? Why Enjolras?_ His heart ached when he glanced at the still form on the bed. "W-what happened now? Please tell me Grantaire and Bahorel got there in time?"

Combeferre looked Courfeyrac sadly in the eyes. "When they got there, Grantaire saw Enjolras tied up with his arms above his head. Apparently he wasn't being too careful and that man, Antoine, he saw and he got hold of him, knocking him to the floor and then keeping him there with a gun pointed at him. Bahorel managed to escape."

"They got both Grantaire and Enjolras?", Courfeyrac exclaimed, wincing when he noticed he was raising his voice. Combeferre noticed the slight tremor going through Enjolras' body and he shook his head in frustration at Courfeyrac.

"Sorry", the brown curled boy whispered ruefully.

Combeferre sighed again and continued his story. "Yes, they got both of them at that time, but they didn't notice Bahorel was with Grantaire as well. Apparently, they used Grantaire to make Enjolras obey to some stuff." He swallowed, suddenly finding it very hard to continue. As if he was invading his friend's privacy by talking about it.

"If Enjolras refused, or fought back, they would hurt Grantaire in return. You've probably noticed the flesh wound and the broken nose?" Courfeyrac nodded. And Combeferre continued.

"And you know how Enjolras is. Too self-sacrificing for his own good and he would give his own life to safe that of his friends'…so he did what they told him. And it wasn't…I mean they didn't….they could've gone further. They uh…That Louis guy kissed him and touched him until…until", he couldn't say it, but Courfeyrac dropped his head, nodding. He understood and he cursed Louis, wishing there was indeed a hell and he would burn in it forever.

"He wanted Enjolras to do the same to him, but Bahorel was there before anything more could happen and as soon as Grantaire was untied, he beat the living hell out of Louis. Bahorel untied Enjolras and got him outside, where they both waited for Grantaire and then they made their way back to the Café where you met them. He hasn't spoken at all ever since they saved him."

Courfeyrac swallowed and pressed his lips together. "Are they dead? Because I swear to God, if they're still out there…"

Combeferre placed a hand on Courfeyrac's knee and nodded. "I'm not completely sure, but Grantaire said he took care of it and that they'd never hurt anyone again, so I'm guessing they are indeed dead, or wishing they would be."

They were silent for a moment.

Suddenly, Combeferre let out a soft, choked up sob. "I'm sorry", he whispered, "God, I'm sorry, I'm just so worried about him. I mean, you know how he is. He is strong and independent and he doesn't like it when he is in need of personal care, but seeing him now and hearing about what Grantaire and Bahorel told me, I think they broke him, Courf. Yes, he's in shock and he has every right to be, but I just really fear that even besides that, he is not going to let any of us in. He's already ashamed when he misses a meeting because of a headache and you know how he is in the sexual area. And now with Grantaire witnessing everything. I pray he's going to let us help, let us in, but I'm so scared he's going to turn into himself completely."

"He has nothing to be ashamed of", Courfeyrac hissed through clenched teeth. "Those bastards are to blame for everything."

"I know he's not Courf, but it doesn't work like that. It's not so easy. He's embarrassed. He's mortified and he has every right to be as well. What they did to him, in front of the eyes of a friend, it's a hard blow to your dignity."

Courfeyrac shook his head. He was so angry and sad at the same time. And what Combeferre said was of course true. But he knew that if there was someone who could pull their blonde friend back, it was his oldest and closest friend. "You'll manage 'Ferre. You're practically his big brother, he loves you unconditionally and he trusts you more than he trusts any other one of us. I have complete faith that things will be alright. You'll see 'Ferre, you'll know what to do, you always do."

Combeferre didn't say anything in return. Instead, he smiled sadly and pulled the other boy in a hug. He had noticed Enjolras twitching every other minute and he was sure the blonde had not been asleep for even a second. He just hoped he hadn't heard in on his and Courfeyrac's conversation.

Silently he let Courfeyrac know their friend was awake and that he needed some time alone with Enjolras. Courfeyrac of course understood and he nodded. "I'll return to the Café, talk to our Amis. Grantaire must be worried out of his mind. Do you want me to return later this evening?"

"Please do", Combeferre said and he meant it. He might be Enjolras' closest and oldest friend, but Courfeyrac was just as needed right now. His bubbly character and ability to see life, hope and good in everything might help Enjolras move pass what happened.

He waved his goodbye and closed the door behind him, leaving Combeferre and Enjolras alone in the apartment.

* * *

Enjolras had been awake the whole time. He hadn't even tried to go to sleep, he had only pretended. And no matter how quiet his friends had kept their conversation, he had heard everything they said. He hadn't thought it was possible for him to feel even more ashamed or disgraced, but the feeling had increased in tenfold when he heard his two best friends talk about him, pity him. He wished Louis and Antoine had just killed him, because honestly, he thought facing his friends after what had happened would be even worse.

Of course they wouldn't judge him and Enjolras knew they loved him and would never think less of him. But that was not the point. It had not so much something to do with his friends, but more with himself. He was sure he couldn't look them in the eyes anymore without seeing the pity and insecurity in there. He was even more sure he could never look at Grantaire the same way again; he had witnessed _everything_. Enjolras didn't want his friends to treat him any differently, but they would. They would be more protective than ever; they would approach him as if he could shatter any second and how could they trust him to lead a revolution after the weakness he had shown?

When he heard Combeferre tell Courfeyrac about what Louis had done to him, he wished he could just sink in to a hole in the ground, never to return again. He was mortified and disgraced to the bone. It was at that moment that ever persistent loathing voice was back telling him how disgusting he was; how weak he was and how he of all people wasn't fit to lead. _You're only fit to fail_.

Tears came again, but this time, he refused to let them fall. He heard Courfeyrac say his goodbyes to Combeferre and then the door closed. Enjolars tried to be as quiet as possible, pretending to be asleep. He did not want to face Combeferre. Not now and not ever if he had a say in it.

Then he felt the bed dip a little and he knew Combeferre had sat down next to him. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, forcing the tears back. His friend knew he wasn´t asleep. Of course he knew, he always knew. He had thought Combeferre would try and talk to him, but instead he felt his friend lie down next to him.

He froze for a second when he felt Combeferre stretch out his arm to him. For a second there were flashbacks of assaulting touches and disturbing words. Then he realized Combeferre tried to turn him around, to face him. It was an invite to be protected, to feel safe, even if it was only for a little while. It was Combeferre's way of saying he was there for him and everything would be alright. It was his way of giving comfort and love without pushing his friend into talking or opening up.

Enjolras had yet to decide if he wanted to, but before he could make up his mind, he felt his body turn around and he curled into the body next to him. Strong arms surrounded him and all he could do at that moment was let it all go. His shoulders started shaking and tears once again made themselves known. They didn´t say anything. They just lay like that: Combeferre holding his little brother while Enjolras cried silent tears of shame and sorrow in the protectiveness of the med student.

TBC.

_(Another chapter done! Hope it met your expectations! There will no doubt be more comfort and more angst on the way. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter and till next time!)_


	13. Chapter 13

_(Hi guys! Thanks you again for the reviews, you are fantastic! I have to admit that I am kind of struggling a little bit with this story. I have several ideas on how to continue it, but I'm not yet sure about it. If you have any ideas yourselves, please feel free to share them. Ideas are always very welcome! Well, I hope you like this chapter)_

Combeferre tried to keep as still as possible. He lay on his back, looking at the ceiling; while his young blonde friend was curled around him finally sound asleep. He had not stirred since sleep had overtaken him and so Combeferre assumed the nightmares hadn't come yet. But he had no doubt they would come.

Even though it felt good to have Enjolras in his arms – a sign that the blonde at least still trusted him enough to seek comfort with – he couldn't help but worry how things would be going from now on. He honestly had no idea how Enjolras was going to handle this. He sincerely hoped this little moment had pulled the revolutionary enough out of his shell to talk about what happened, but knowing Enjolras it was more likely he would try to hide behind his mask of marble and pretend nothing was wrong.

Combeferre didn't want that to happen. He had no doubt it would be hard for Enjolras to talk about it and he would of course understand if he didn't want to. But he couldn't allow his friend to just bury it, because that would in the end only lead to more pain and loss.

He absentmindedly tightened his hold on Enjolras while praying he would be able to help his best friend through this. Because he had to; there just was no other option. He pressed a soft kiss the blonde curls tucked under his chin – light enough to keep Enjolras from waking up – and closed his eyes. The fear and worry of the past few days were finally catching up on him. He was still concerned for his friend, but at least for now, he could relish in the fact that the blonde felt safe enough to sleep in his hold. So slowly, Combeferre let darkness claim him.

* * *

Courfeyrac had reluctantly left Combeferre's apartment and was now making his way back to the Café. He really didn't want to leave Enjolras, but if Combeferre thought it best for him to go, then he would. Because in the end, there was no one else who knew what was best for Enjolras than his oldest friend. But he didn't have to like it.

While he was walking back, he felt like he was placed in some sort of dream. Or nightmare maybe. Everything that had happened; the things Combeferre had told him; it just all felt so unreal to Courfeyrac. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it.

Because every time he allowed himself to believe it, he felt physically ill. The broken and lost expression on Enjolras' face was just too much to bear. He just couldn't come around the fact that something like this could happen to his proud and fearless leader. That this could happen to the one person who always kept his emotions in check; who always stood proudly and seemed to be shining wherever he went. That this could happen to their marble lover of liberty and deduce that stoic statue to a broken mess was something that shattered Courfeyracs heart.

Of course he knew Enjolras wasn't made of marble. He was human like the rest of them and he had feelings like the rest of them. The only difference was that other than Combeferre, no one else had really seen any other emotions in Enjolras beside those of hope, believe, anger and pride. No one had actually seen Enjolras scared, desperate and panicked. Not really. And no one besides Combeferre had seen him cry. Until now.

Courfeyrac knew the rest of the Amis would be feeling just as helpless as he did. When he entered the backroom of the Café he was met with a silence. A silence thick with tension and worry. Grantaire and Bahorel were seated at the corner, while Joly silently took care of their injuries. Jehan was huddled in Bossuets embrace and Marius and Feuilly were staring at nothing in particular. They all looked up when he entered, asking a silent question in unison.

Courfeyrac swallowed thickly and shook his head dejectedly. And with that he silently answered their question. _He is not okay_.

Courfeyrac quietly made his way to Bossuet and Jehan and sat beside them, taking the young poet from Bossuet and holding him tight. He sighed once and then spoke. "He still hasn't said anything. It's like he's just lost; locked inside himself… Combeferre is with him now, but I don't know if he is able to make any progress. I've never seen him like this", he whispered brokenly.

"Maybe he just needs time", Bahorel suggested, although he didn't really believe his own words. The other Amis carefully proposed their own ideas for helping Enjolras through this. What they could do to make it easier for him.

Grantaire was the only one who wasn't participating in the conversation, because he knew. He knew better than anyone how Enjolras was feeling at this point. "No matter what you try, you can't help him", he suddenly said ruefully. "Not really. He has to help himself. He has to get through this himself. He won't accept help if he doesn't accept what happened first." Grantaire didn't look up, but just stared at the bottle in his hand, and smirked sadly. He had just named the things he had failed at. He hadn't been able to get through it himself. He had found his own way of dealing with the devils of his past not through his friends, not through himself, but through the blessed numbness The Green Fairy offered.

All the Amis were staring at the drunkard in the corner. Only Bahorel knew the deeper meaning of Grantaire's words and he swore to himself he would talk to him about it when they had a moment alone.

Courfeyrac was about to say something, anger at Grantaire's words evident on his face, but he was silenced with a warning look from Bahorel. So instead he just huffed and rolled his eyes.

"But what do we do then?" Joly asked quietly. "I understand he has got to come to terms with what happened first, but surely we can support him. Let him know we're there for him; that we want to help him and.."

"Let him know that you pity him, you mean", Grantaire mumbled, "Because that will be the only thing you're doing." This earned the drunkard more angry glares and before things could escalate Bahorel thought it wise to end this discussion. It wasn't helping anyone, least of all Enjolras.

"I think we need to stay back and listen to what Combeferre tells us. Grantaire is right, we can't help him right now. If you go there and offer him support, he will probably feel only more embarrassed than he already is. This is Enjolras we're talking about mon Amis, you know this", he looked around his friends, ignoring the attempts of some of them to interrupt and continued, "And when Combeferre says it's time, we'll let him know we're there for him; that he has friends who care for him and who'll have his back no matter what. But until then, I suggest we try and focus on our cause. I sincerely believe that is the only way we can help Enjolras right now. Take that weight off his shoulders, so he can focus on himself."

When he saw his friends nod in agreement, although some of them still quite reluctant, he said: "Very well then, that is settled. Then let us hereby discuss the demonstration of this afternoon."

* * *

_Enjolras was once again tied up. The rope was slicing his wrists and withheld him from fighting the intruding touches and strokes. He tried to keep from making any sound, but every time he failed. And with each sound he made and with each struggle, Antoine would hurt Grantaire. Enjolras was panicking as Grantaire started to shout. "Stop fighting them Apollo, you're killing me! Do you care so little for your friend? Just do as they say! If I die it is entirely your fault!"_

_It was a dream. It was a dream, he knew that, because Grantaire would never want him to stop fighting his assaulters. But the screaming never stopped and the touches never stopped and Enjolras was freaking out, because why couldn't he wake up?_

_ "You're such a weak boy, aren't you? You're as pretty as a God, but you're as weak as a beggar. You're letting your friend get hurt, because you can't keep yourself together. He is going to die and that will be on you", Louis was purring in his ear, while his hands kept traveling to places that made Enjolras shudder._

_No, no, no, please wake up. Please let me wake up. He thought he heard someone calling him in the distance and he tried to focus on that voice with all his might._

"Enjolras! Wake up, Enjolras!"

Combeferre had been fast asleep when the stirring started. He felt Enjolras twisting and turning in his hold, muttering words and pleas. Combeferre cursed inwardly and released his hold on his blond friend. Enjolras was drenched in sweat and his face was contorted in a painful grimace. _Damn it, damn it. Wake up, Enjolras!_

It took Combeferre a good five minutes to snap Enjolras out of his night terror and even then he was still too shaken to comprehend he was in fact not trapped in Louis hold but in a soft bed in front of a worried Combeferre.

"Enjolras, are you with me? It was just a dream, mon Ami. You're safe, I swear you're safe. Are you okay?"

Finally, Enjolras' eyes focused and he looked at Combeferre. He forced his erratic breathing to calm down and shrugged his friend's hands away from his shoulders. "I'm fine", he said curtly, hoping to show as little emotion as possible. He didn't want this. He didn't want pity, he didn't want help. He had to be fine. He _was _fine!

"Don't do this Enjolras. Don't shut me out" Combeferre said silently, shaking his head.

Enjolras only looked away and turned around in the bed. "I'm fine", he said again.

Combeferre closed his eyes for a moment at Enjolras' words. _So that is how it's going to be. Back behind that marble mask_. Except this time, no one was going to believe he was actually fine. And Combeferre swore to himself he was going to get Enjolras through this. No matter how difficult the revolutionary would be.

TBC

_(Another chapter done. Hope you liked it, please let me know? Till next time!)_


	14. Chapter 14

_(Hi everyone! I'm writing this in front of the television, our queen has abdicated and now we have a king! And in the meantime, I'm writing about a certain revolutionary, fighting for a republic :) A very, very, very big thanks to all you lovely people who have decided to follow, favorite or review this story. It means so much to me and they encourage me to keep writing :) Next update might take a while, because I'll be going away for a few days and I doubt I'll be having internet. Anyway, hope you like this chapter. Enjoy!)_

During the next few days, Enjolras receded more and more into himself. He spent the days mostly working fervently on his studies or staring blankly out of the windows of Combeferre's apartment. The blonde revolutionary didn't want to be alone in his own rooms and he was grateful that Combeferre let him stay. Although he wondered if his friend would even let him go at all should he want to.

He allowed Combeferre and sometimes Courfeyrac – who was the only one of the Amis to frequently visit – to tend to his injuries, but he hardly spoke more to them than a simple 'yes', 'no' or 'fine'. He never really acknowledged them, unless they spoke to him directly. Enjolras hardly ate and he barely slept. The few hours he did manage to fall asleep, were always rudely disturbed by nightmares that left him bathing in sweat and near hyperventilating.

He refused to talk about what happened and he tried his best to just forget about it, to pretend it never happened to him, but every time he locked eyes with either Combeferre or Courfeyrac he flashed back and knew he would never be able to forget.

Enjolras was in a constant state of restlessness. He wasn't able to relax, because every time he did, the memories would force themselves upon him and he was left shaking with fear and embarrassment. He couldn't talk to his friends, because talking about it; meant acknowledging it and that was something he tried not to. There was actually only one thing he could do to shift his attention from Louis and Antoine, and that was by burying himself in his studies and the cause.

* * *

Combeferre wasn't happy about it, but he couldn't force his friend to open up, even though he tried. God knows he tried. Every single day again, he asked himself how he could push Enjolras to talk about what happened, to confide in him, while in the meantime also giving his friend the time and space he needed.

It was hard on the medical student. He hated seeing Enjolras like that, and he hated it even more that he wasn't able to help him. Every time he woke up from one of Enjolras' nightmares, he felt like a failure. And no matter how hard the blonde tried to act he was fine, Combeferre saw through it all. He saw it in the nervous twitching of Enjolras' foot the whole day long; he saw it in the anxious glances he sometimes threw around the room; he saw it in the jumpiness and in the sudden – though short – outbursts.

He saw it mostly in Enjolras' entire posture that seemed to have changed over the days. He was even more pale than usual; there were dark circles under his eyes that grew darker after every sleep deprived by nightmares; he was constantly hunched over as if he was trying to be as small as possible, or even invisible. And then there were his eyes; once full of light and passion, but now blank and ever fearful.

Most people would probably not think that there was anything wrong with the blonde revolutionary; they would only see the marble mask, but not Combeferre or any of the other Amis for that matter. They knew Enjolras too well and they realized his marble façade was no more. It may even be forever crumbled.

After less than a week, Enjolras was determined to go back to the Café. He still wasn't very talkative, but Combeferre was now at least able to coax full sentences out of him. "We need to get back to the cause, 'Ferre. I can't keep sitting around all day, I'm doing fine. My wounds have healed and contrary to what you think, I'm handling things well. What happened happened and there is no use to dwell on it any longer. I've got more important things to do."

Combeferre had disagreed, but if Enjolras wanted to get back to their meetings, there was really nothing he could do. Maybe it would be good for him to see his friends; to get his life back on track. But Combeferre couldn't shake that feeling that there was something building inside his friend. Something building larger and larger, until it would break and crack forever. The medical student sincerely feared that day.

Without Enjolras' knowledge, he had let the Amis know that their friend would be coming back that night. That he had a speech prepared, and that he was not willing to talk – or better yet acknowledge – what had happened a week ago. Combeferre enjoined his friends not to baby Enjolras or treat him any differently. Grantaire and Courfeyrac had agreed instantly, the other Amis took more convincing. They hadn't seen Enjolras at all after it happened and now they were expected to act as if nothing happened?

"I'm not asking you to ignore it, or forget it", Combeferre pressed, feeling Courfeyracs supporting hand on his shoulder, "I'm simply asking you not to push him. He hates being pitied and maybe for now, it is best if he finds some distraction in the cause. I am doing my best to get through to him, but I think it would only backfire if you all act different around him. You all know how he is and after what happened, his determination to stand strong is even bigger."

* * *

Enjolras was more than a little anxious when he arrived with Combeferre at the Café that night. He noticed right away though that his friends tried to act as normal as they could around him. Enjolras was grateful for that, although he could still see their concern and pity in their eyes and every time his eyes locked with one of his friends, the memories stirred and they felt like a dagger twisting his heart.

There was only one person Enjolras refused to look at. Grantaire. He couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried to force himself and no matter how often he told himself to get over it, he never locked eyes with the drunkard. He feared what he might see in there and he didn't think he could handle the shame that was already so overwhelming.

Enjolras' speech went relatively well, which surprised most of the Amis, even Combeferre. For the first time since more than a week, he had seen that spark in Enjolras' eyes as he spoke of justice and equality. It died again as soon as the speech was over.

The blonde retreated to his standard table in the room to work. He didn't speak to any of his friends for the rest of the night and he pretended not to hear the whispers or the stares. No one stayed long after. The atmosphere just wasn't right and soon, Enjolras found himself alone in the Café with Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Grantaire. Combeferre was mostly just waiting for Enjolras to return home. The blonde had admitted that he didn't want to be on his own. It was one of the few things Enjolras had let him in on.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac were seated a little distance away from Enjolras. They pretended to be working through some notes, but were in fact silently discussing how things had to go from here. They looked up in shock when they saw Enjolras stand up and walk over to Grantaire, who was sitting in his usual corner surrounded by bottles and some sketches.

Grantaire felt his heart speed up when he noticed Enjolras was approaching him. He wasn't prepared for this; what was he going to say? He worriedly glanced towards Combeferre and Courfeyrac, but they only shrugged.

Enjolras pulled out a chair and sat down next to Grantaire. He still hadn't looked the drunkard in the eyes once and he didn't say anything for a long while. Neither did Grantaire. They just sat there in silence: Enjolras staring blankly ahead and Grantaire slowly sipping from his bottle. Finally, Enjolras took a deep breath and spoke.

"I can't look at you"

The words were whispered and full of regret and shame. Grantaire pursed his lips and nodded, taking another swig. He knew why Enjolras had a hard time looking at him and he understood.

"I know. And I understand, it takes time."

Now it was Enjolras' turn to nod. The talk felt awkward, but then again, it did not. Enjolras glanced at the several bottles spread out on the table and swallowed nervously.

"Does it help you forget?"

Grantaire turned his head and eyed Enjolars carefully. The blonde's hair had fallen in front of his eyes, successfully hiding them, and he was anxiously tapping his fingers on the table. He looked so young and insecure at that moment.

"For a while, yes"

Another nod. And then Enjolras reached out and tried to take the bottle from Grantaire. "May I?"

Grantaire frowned and looked over at Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who were now no longer pretending to be working. They looked at Grantaire and Enjolras with wide-eyes and Combeferre silently shook his head when their blonde friend reached out towards the bottle.

Grantaire pulled away. "You may not. This is not your style Apollo"

This reaction caused Enjolras to finally look at him, although he very quickly averted his eyes again. His expression was hard to fathom. There was shame, anger and guilt, but there was also shock and surprise. For a second Grantaire thought Enjolras was going to discuss with him, but then he abruptly stood up.

"Suit yourself Grantaire, I'm fine", he said, before walking over towards the stairs. He was ready to go. He needed to leave. He needed to forget. He glanced at Combeferre once, who immediately nodded and said his goodbyes to Courfeyrac and Grantaire. Then he followed Enjolras and together they left the Café.

Courfeyrac looked over at Grantaire in shock. Had Enjolras really taken the first step to acknowledging what happened? In front of Grantaire?

TBC

(_Okay, I know this is probably a crappy chapter. Or at least, I'm not really satisfied with it, but I do hope you at least liked it a little. I promise next chapter will be better. So please stick with me :) And let me know what you think?)_


	15. Chapter 15

_(Hi everyone! Thank you all so much for the follows, favorites and reviews. I can't say enough how much they mean to me. They're so useful in all kind of ways :) It's been a while, but I've got an update for you. It's not a very long chapter, but I hope you don't mind. My other stories will have an update soon as well. Enjoy this chapter!)_

Combeferre and Enjolras walked back to Combeferre's apartment in silence. Enjolras rarely spoke much after what happened with exception of a short and factual answer when spoken to. So his silence did not come as a surprise to Combeferre. What did surprise him – or rather shocked him – was what had happened only minutes ago in the Café.

Combeferre knew Enjolras probably better than the blonde knew himself and he had seen the changes Antoine and Louis had caused in Enjolras' behavior. But until now, he had thought they were handling things together. Not as well as he had hoped. Far from that, but somewhere, he did believe and hope he could pull his best friend back from the darkness.

It was when he saw Enjolras reach for the bottle of alcohol from Grantaire with the solemn purpose of forgetting that he realized how far off the situation really was. Before the incident, his friend renounced any form of alcohol usage. He never drank himself and he wasn't all too fond of the drinking habits of his friends, especially Grantaire's. For Enjolras to even consider drinking had always been unimaginable to Combeferre. And yet, here they were.

It was a sign of how damaged Enjolras was; how lost. And Combeferre was close to despair. He had to watch how his friend dealt with the constant nightmares; he had to accept the fact that Enjolras didn't really want to talk to him; he had noticed how his friend buried himself in his studies and his cause, just to keep his mind on something else than the incident. But those were all symptoms he had seen before whenever something serious bothered Enjolras. It had been the same when his mother passed away. Or when he first told him about his relationship with his father.

But not alcohol. Never that. And Combeferre felt as if someone ripped his heart out of his chest when he saw his friend reach for the bottle. _He is losing himself. I am losing him. What do I do? How do I help? It is my duty to help him; he's my best friend. He needs my help, even though he doesn't want it. But how do I help? God, please, how do I fix this? _He couldn't help but wonder how much more the situation could be spiraling downwards if he failed his friend.

Combeferre was so far sunken in thought, he didn't realize Enjolras was asking him something until the blonde shook his shoulder tentatively . He looked up at his friend, who eyed him quizzically and opened his mouth. "I'm sorry Enjolras, my mind was somewhere else, what did you say?"

Enjolras frowned and swallowed nervously, clearly not happy to have to repeat the question. "I asked if you had the time to accompany me to university tomorrow. I have to get back to my classes, but I'd rather not walk the distance alone", he admitted quietly. "But please don't feel obligated".

Combeferre didn't like the idea of Enjolras going back to class already. He liked it even less than when Enjolras told him he wanted to come back to the meetings at the Café,because at least at the Café were friends who could keep an eye on him. At university, Enjolras would mostly be on his own. "If you think you're doing well enough to go back, then yes of course I'll accompany you, but Enjolras maybe you should…"

"I'm well enough. Thank you." It was said coolly and in a tone that left no room for discussion. Combeferre stared at his friend for a moment before shaking his head and biting his lip. He was in no mood to argue and neither was Enjolras. When they arrived at the medical student's apartment, Enjolras went straight to the spare room in which he had spent the last week and shut the door without another word.

Combeferre looked after him and pulled a hand through his hair. He then walked over to the door and knocked two times before entering the room. Enjolras lay face down on the bed, fisting his pillow. He sat down on the bed next to the blonde and cleared his throat. "The speech went well tonight, don't you think?" It was a feeble attempt to start a conversation and Combeferre knew it. But he did not know what else to do anymore. He was losing grip and every day he felt Enjolras slip further away from him.

Enjolras didn't answer, but shifted away from Combeferre. He was in no mood for company and he lacked the energy to talk. He wished Combeferre would just leave him alone for a moment.

"Had us all hanging on every word you said again. Even Grantaire was paying attention, which is an achievement in itself. Speaking of, I saw you talking to him later this evening. Was everything okay?"

Enjolras swallowed thickly and remembered what he had asked the drunkard. Had Combeferre noticed? He felt instantly ashamed and didn't want the medical student to continue.

"Stop it 'Ferre", he mumbled annoyed, "I'm fine and I don't want to talk. How often do I have to say that? How do I get it through to you? I'm getting so sick of you pushing me. Just leave me alone, please."

"You know, you're not convincing anyone Enjolras", Combeferre said in response, getting slightly irritated himself, "least of all me, you should know that. I'm not trying to push you into anything, I'm trying to help you. You're shutting me out, you're losing yourself and this whole thing is spinning out of control. Why won't you let me in? What are you so afraid of? You know me!"

Enjolras knew Combeferre only meant well, but the shame and guilt and anger caused him to lash out at his friend. "You're the last person I want to talk to Combeferre. You're the only one of all the Amis to keep pushing and babying me and I hate it; I'm sick of it. I don't need it, I don't need you. Just leave me the hell alone and mind your own damn business!" He was almost shouting those last words.

He regretted his outburst immediately and Combeferre's hurt expression was something he could now add to the ever growing feeling of guilt. He saw how his friend bit the inside of his cheek before nodding and heading out the room with a last "You can't do this alone Julien". The door was shut a little louder than usual and Enjolras sighed ruefully. _Well done Julien. You and your stupid misplaced pride. He's the only person who truly cares for you and doesn't think you're disgusting and you push him away. You're not worth anything._

Enjolras closed his eyes and sank his nails deep in his wrist to keep from crying. The pain always helped to ground him in some way. He only stopped when he started to draw blood and he was mesmerized by the way the red liquid trickled down his hand. He couldn't deny the fact that the pain made him feel better. It disgusted him in some way. _You're not that person. You may be weak, but you're not that weak._ But on the other hand, it did help him forget about everything for a moment. _And isn't that just what you need?_ He took a deep breath and swallowed thickly. He traced the blood with his finger before wiping it away. And he wondered.

Combeferre clenched his teeth and sank down on the sofa, where he buried his face in in hands. Everything was all going so wrong. Maybe he wasn't the right person for Enjolras right now. Maybe his friend needed someone else to help him. Someone who could keep his own when confronted with Enjolras' wrath. Someone who wouldn't back down so easily and who wasn't as close to Enjolras as Combeferre was himself. Someone who certainly knew what the blonde was going through. Someone like Grantaire.

Combeferre knew Enjolras didn't really mean what he said. But it did mean that Combeferre was now certain that he was not the one who could help his friend. Not this time. He decided to confront Grantaire about it tomorrow as soon as he had dropped Enjolras off. Combeferre took a deep breath and glanced at Enjolras' closed door again. Then he grabbed a book and settled on the sofa. He hadn't really slept in his own bed for a while now, fearing he wouldn't be able to hear Enjolras trapped in a nightmare from there.

_To another sleepless night_, he thought tiredly.

TBC.

_(So there we go. Like I said, a slightly shorter chapter, but I hope you've enjoyed it. I'm not quite done with my Enjolras torture, I'm very sorry for that :) I'll update my other stories soon, definitely this week. Please let me know what you think of this one, hope you're still happy!)  
_


	16. Chapter 16

_(Hi guys! Thank you all for your continuous support. I really, really appreciate it and you make me so happy :) I'm going to __**warn **__you for this chapter: although it is not too explicit, there will be self-harm in this one (at the end). So if you don't like that ,skip the last bit, you'll be able to follow the story without specifically reading that part. Thank you again and enjoy this chapter!)_

They didn't mention their fight the following morning. Actually, they didn't mention anything that morning. Neither man felt like talking and so they kept silent. Enjolras didn't come out to eat breakfast with Combeferre, but stayed inside his room until it was time to go. Combeferre wasn't even surprised anymore and quietly ate his bread and stared at some books until it was time for him and Enjolras to go to Enjolras' University building.

He didn't have to knock on the door. A little before eleven, Enjolras came out, fully dressed and bag packed so full with books and papers he probably didn't even need them all. He refused to look at Combeferre and walked straight past him towards the front door. There he paused, took a deep breath and silently asked: "Will you still walk with me?"

Combeferre sighed and turned around in his chair to face the blonde, but the latter was still looking at the door and wasn't about to turn around. The medical student pulled a hand through his hair and mumbled sadly: "Sure, I'll get our coats."

Combeferre knew Enjolras hadn't eaten anything since lunch yesterday, but he was too tired to press the matter. They already were on shaky grounds and he feared that if he kept 'pushing' – as Enjolras so delicately put it – the distance between them would only grow larger. Without a word, he handed over Enjolras' jacket and put on his own. He let Enjolras open the door and followed him out on the street.

As soon as they made their way outside, Enjolras moved closer to Combeferre; a sign the medical student had picked up early on along with the anxious and skittish glances the blonde threw around him. Combeferre dejectedly shook his head and offered Enjolras his arm which the revolutionary hesitantly and reluctantly accepted.

During their walk, Combeferre noticed how Enjolras opened his mouth several times to say something, before thinking the better of it and pressing his lips together in silence. The medical student wasn't so naïve to think he was the only one suffering from their little fight the other night. Enjolras looked absolutely miserable and unhappy and it hurt Combeferre more than anything to know that he was likely not able to help his best friend out this time.

When they arrived at University, Enjolras let go of Combeferre's arm and momentarily shifted nervously on his feet. He looked at Combeferre for the first time that morning. "Thank you. For walking with me…I know I must be terribly annoying…It's just". He trailed off, not really knowing what else to say and he was about to turn around when Combeferre grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You're not annoying", he stated firmly, albeit a little bit coolly. He couldn't help it; he still felt a little hurt by the things the blonde had said to him the previous night, but he couldn't bear to hear Enjolras call himself annoying after what had happened. "When do your classes end?"

"Three today, I think, but it's okay if you don't have the time…" Enjolras turned a slight shade of red, obviously hating the fact that he was asking this of Combeferre. He averted his eyes and took a shaky breath.

"I'll see you at three then", Combeferre said and he offered the blonde a little smile, before turning around and walking away. If he stayed longer he feared he was going to bring up the reason of their fall out of the other night, and neither men had the energy or time to start that conversation. When he got to the corner of the street he turned around and could just see a glimpse of red slipping inside the building.

* * *

As he decided last night, Combeferre immediately made his way to Grantaire's apartment. It was near noon, so the drunkard would probably either be still asleep in his own room or he would have already left for the Café to drown his troubles in an early bottle. Combeferre sincerely hoped it be the first, because he'd rather have his talk with a sober Grantaire.

He politely greeted the landlady, who confirmed Grantaire to be home, and then made his way up the stairs towards the drunkard's rooms. He wasn't surprised when his first few knocks remained unanswered, but he kept pounding on the door just as long until the cynic furiously forced the door open.

"What the hell Combeferre! When one does not answer his door, you can presume he isn't at home!" he grumbled angrily. His hair was a mess; his eyes were only half open and he still smelled of sleep .

Combeferre raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Ah, but you are home, you see. And you've already slept half the day away, so now would be a good time to wake up. Besides I need to talk to you."

Grantaire glowered at the medical student and rolled his eyes. "What on earth would you want to talk about at this ungodly hour? And why can't it wait until I'm at least ten times less sober?"

Combeferre only shook his head and stepped passed the drunkard to enter his apartment. He went straight for the chair and motioned for Grantaire to sit on the sofa opposite of him. When Grantaire crossed his arms and looked at the medical student with raised eyebrows, Combeferre sighed impatiently and said: "It's about Enjolras."

As expected, this got Grantaire's immediate attention and he walked over to the sofa with a soft 'Oh'. "Is this about last night? Because you should know I would never give him alcohol for the reason he gave me yesterday. I mean, I know I've said he needed to loosen up and that I'd like to see him wasted, but I would never help him to the bottle just for it to be an escape."

Combeferre nodded and held up his hand. "I know you would'nt 'Taire. And it's not really what I wanted to talk to you about, although it hangs together I guess." He took a deep breath and continued shakily. "We had a fight yesterday night."

Grantaire looked up shocked at the troubled man in front of him, but didn't interrupt him. "I'm losing him R and no matter what I do or how I try, he refuses to let me help him. And he thinks we don't see it; he thinks he can go on like this, but it's completely spinning out of control, and we all know it. He knows it too. I mean, alcohol 'Taire! He'd never _ever _even consider it before and now he wants to willingly drown his troubles in the bottle? No offense, but that's not right. It's not him.. He's burying his emotions and he's refusing to deal with what happened and every time I press the matter, he gets angry. And yesterday he just completely blew up on me."

His voice wavered and he had to take a moment to collect himself. "I'm not the one who can help him this time R. I'm too close to him; we know each other too well and although I can't even express how much I hate the fact that I can't get him to confide in me, I do understand why it's hard on him. He needs someone else this time. Someone who can stand his ground; who won't back down so easily…" There was a hesitant silence and then Combeferre looked at him directly: "Someone who knows what he's going through.."

Grantaire pulled a hand over his face and shook his head. He had talked to Combeferre and Bahorel about his relation with Louis and Antoine little more than a week ago and ever since he had allowed those memories back in, he had nearly doubled his alcohol consumption. "I don't know what he's going through 'Ferre…not exactly."

"You know better than all of us."

"Yeah…right…well, I'm not exactly the best example here, am I? What do you want me to do? Walk up to him and tell him to deal with his shit in a good way? Maybe I should bring my Green Fairy with me you know, for extra convincing." He laughed bitterly and turned away from Combeferre. "I won't be doing him any good…I'll only disgust him more and he'll never listen to what I have to say."

"I sincerely doubt that R", Combeferre mumbled tiredly. "I think there couldn't be a more suiting person to confront Julien. You know, you may actually be the best example for him." He said the last words hesitantly, hoping Grantaire wouldn't take them the wrong way. _The best example for what happens if he doesn't deal with it._

Grantaire narrowed his eyes. "Gee, thanks Combeferre", he spat angrily.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean it in a bad way", Combeferre said sadly, "You know I don't blame you in any way for what happened to you and how you've handled it. I just…I need someone to help him R and I'm putting all my faith here in you, because I honestly believe you're the only one for him right now."

Grantaire groaned in frustration and let himself fall back on the sofa. "I'm way too sober for this", he mumbled and then he was silent for a few minutes. Combeferre didn't say anything either, patiently waiting for Grantaire to accept what he had asked of him. He had no doubt Grantaire would agree in the end; the man would do anything to help Enjolras.

"Fine", Grantaire finally muttered quietly, "I'll try and talk to him. Just don't hate me if I fail"

"I'd never. Thank you mon Ami, we'll talk more about it later. Will I see you at the Café this evening?" Grantaire nodded absentmindedly and stood to walk Combeferre to the door. Before the medical student left, he turned around and placed a gentle hand on the drunkard's shoulder. "I really appreciate this Grantaire…You're a good friend." And with that, he left.

* * *

Enjolras felt relatively good to be back in class. He wasn't nearly as talkative as he had been, but he relished in the fact that the lectures and debates offered him an escape from his depressive train of thoughts and his dark memories.

He listened intently to his professors and took notes; learning things he could most definitely use in his speeches for the upcoming meetings. Though the professors were undoubtedly all royalists, that didn't mean one couldn't learn from them. Usually, Enjolras liked to call them out on their 'old-fashioned political systems' which earned him angry scowls and an extra round of homework, but Enjolras always felt it was worth it. Not now. For now, he just remained silent and let his mind contradict all the professors were saying, without voicing his arguments out loud.

He did not fancy being the centre of attention any more.

It wasn't until the professor called his name when things started to go terribly wrong. He was asked to read a passage from one of the law books spread on his desk and as soon as he read the paragraph of the text, he felt his heart clench and his throat constrict. _Assaulter and Assaulted: An introduction to sex offenses_.

He was breathing erratically as his eyes swept over the text, triggering all those memories he was trying so hard to block out. He noticed he was starting to tremble and all the eyes of the students and professor fixed on him made him panic. He tried to get himself under control; to get his mouth to form the words, but he failed.

Without another word he stood up from his table and hurriedly bolted for the door, not bothering to excuse himself in the process. He didn't stop running until he reached the small university bathroom. Glad that he was alone, he locked the door behind him and carefully pulled out the little pocket knife he had managed to bring with him without Combeferre noticing.

He stared at it and suddenly doubted what he was about to do. If he crossed this line there was no going back and he knew it. He feared it, but craved for it at the same time. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his too fast beating heart. His mind soon wandered back to the text he was supposed to read and then travelled on to the alleyway; to the barn; to Louis' mouth on his; to Louis' hand pressed against his front…

He swallowed thickly and pressed the knife down, successfully breaking the skin. He hissed at the pain and watched the blood stream down his arm. _Now you can't sink any lower_, he thought disgustingly and he made another cut just above the first one, a little deeper this time. He bit his hand hard to keep from voicing his pain.

But it worked. It brought him back to the here and now. It stopped the flashbacks; the memories. He felt a small smile tug at his lips and let his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes. It worked…and that was all that mattered for now.

TBC.

(_There we go. Another chapter done. I'm really, really anxious to know your opinion on this one. Am I going too far? I honestly hoped you liked it, but please, let me know! :) Till next time) _


	17. Chapter 17

_(Good evening, my lovely readers! Thank you all so much for your support of this story and of the previous chapter in general. I wasn't really sure about that one – with the self-harm and all – so it means a lot to know that the story is still hanging together. You guys are the best and I can't say enough how much I appreciate it. This chapter is still kind of sad, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.)_

He wasn't exactly sure how long he stayed in the small bathroom, but it must've been at least an hour for he heard the bells chime twice. The sharp pain he had felt at the first few cuts had slowly reduced to a distant throbbing and Enjolras felt a little dazed from blood loss.

He had been prepared though. Not only did he manage to bring with him the small pocket knife; he had also taken some bandages from Combeferre's doctors bag so he could wrap up the wounds before pulling the sleeves of his shirt back down. It had felt weird, preparing for something like this. Especially because he hadn't even been sure he wanted to really do it.

But now that he had crossed that line, he knew there was no going back. The pain had helped to ground him; it helped him to forget. But now that the pain started to subside, he felt worse than ever. His guilt had grown in tenfold; as did his shame and self-loathing. He looked down at his wrapped up arm and wanted nothing more than to rip the bandages off and press down on the wounds.

It only took him two cuts and already he longed for more. Anything to not feel the way he did now. He had slid down the bathroom wall to the floor, with his legs stretched out in front of him and his head hung low. He never would've thought he could feel this way; not in his darkest dreams could he have imagined himself spiralling down like this. And yet he didn't see any other possible way out.

No matter how much his heart told him to, he couldn't talk about this to his friends. Not to any of them, not even to Combeferre. How could he talk about what happened? How could he justify the fact that he had responded to Louis' touch. It was abominable and it kept haunting him everywhere he went. He didn't understand; he hadn't enjoyed any of it. He had been angry and scared, but in no way excited. How then could he explain what had happened? It was mortifying.

No, Enjolras just needed everything to continue like it always had; like nothing had happened to him. He had a job to do; a reputation to keep. And he knew that reputation was already faltering; he could see it in his friends' eyes. Showing any more weakness would mean the end of their faith in him as their leader. He was certain of that.

So he would just have to walk the path alone and if that meant he had to ground himself in one of the worst ways possible, then so be it. He'd just have to be careful about it; no one could find out what he was doing. It would kill them. He had to show his friends that he was okay; that he was capable. That he was the same person as before. And to Enjolras that end justified the means.

* * *

The sudden murmur in the hallway told the blonde that classes were over and – as such – that it had to be three o'clock. That meant Combeferre would be outside waiting for him. Enjolras let out a deep sigh. He cared more for the medical student than he'd ever be able to express in words, but lately he found it hard to be around his best friend. He knew Combeferre only meant well and Enjolras really appreciated how his friend had tried to be there in every way possible, but he couldn't handle the questions any more. Nor could he stand the worrisome looks thrown his way anymore.

He had made his decision; he knew had to leave. He couldn't stay with Combeferre any longer. It was time for him to return to his own apartment, no matter how reluctant he was to go there; to be on his own. If he'd stay with Combeferre, it would only be a matter of time before his friend noticed something was up or before he'd find out what Enjolras was doing to himself. It was just too risky; he had to go.

Before he left the bathroom, he checked his sleeve twice to see if it was clean from any evidence. He packed the knife and the leftover bandages in his bag and joined the other students in the hallway. On his way outside he kept his eyes to the ground and his head down; he wanted to leave the building as fast as he could without being called back by one of his professors or students.

As he exited the building he noticed Combeferre right away. He was sitting on the steps with a book in his hands and he seemed to be completely engrossed in what he was reading. Enjolras approached his friend and silently sat down next to him. He noticed how his friend immediately eyed him from head to toe before asking: "good day?"

Enjolras nodded slightly and sighed. "Yes, it was quite alright. Got enough work to do for the next few weeks, so that's always good." Combeferre grunted something and closed his book, ready to leave University and head home. Enjolras however stopped him from standing up.

"I think I want to go back to my own apartment 'Ferre", he mumbled softly, refusing to meet Combeferre's eyes. "I should have gone back sooner, but you know...I ah...well, I'm ready now. And me staying at your place isn't really doing our friendship much good...you must've noticed it as well."

He paused and looked up. His friend was wearing a look he couldn't quite fathom, although it seemed to get close to disappointment. "I don't want to fight with you 'Ferre...you're my best friend and I appreciate what you've been doing, but it's becoming too suffocating. Especially since I'm doing fine...I really am."

Combeferre shook his head sadly and looked away. "Enjolras", he started, "If you want to go back to your own apartment then it's not my place to stop you. It's your decision, not mine. You don't need my permission and you don't need to justify yourself. I just hope you don't go because of what happened last night."

Enjolras opened his mouth to interrupt, but Combeferre continued. "If you really feel I've been pressuring you, it's only because I'm worried about you, you must know that. You're like a brother to me and I know you better than anyone. I can see when things aren't well and you can deny all you want, but deep down you know I am right. And I'm sorry if you got the feeling that I've driven you in some sort of corner, that was not my intention."

"Stop 'Ferre, please", Enjolras whispered sadly. He couldn't hear any more of it, it was too much, "I just want to go back home." He swallowed thickly and took a shaky breath. "You have nothing to apologize for, but I promise you that I'm fine. Or maybe not completely fine, but I'm getting there and I need to do it on my own."

They were both silent for a while. Combeferre thought about his talk with Grantaire and hoped the drunkard wouldn't wait too long to speak with Enjolras. The blonde could talk all he wanted, Combeferre knew he was hiding something and to be honest, he really didn't want Enjolras to be on his own. But what could he do? He couldn't stop him.

"Alright then", he said quietly, nodding his head while he pressed his lips together, "I'll walk you home. Although we might first need to stop by my own apart.."

"I've already packed everything this morning"

Combeferre blinked dumbly a few times, his mouth agape. "Uh...yes...well, okay then, we'll just go straight to yours. Unless you don't want me to walk with you?"

Enjolras smiled slightly. He absentmindedly rubbed his bandaged arm through his shirt, pressing down a little too hard, just to feel that sting. He felt awful. He knew Combeferre was going to blame himself for this; for the fact that he so suddenly had decided to leave. "No", he mumbled, "I do want you to walk with me..."

And so Combeferre did. Of course he did. Together they walked the streets and both of them offered a few feeble attempts of small talk, but neither felt really into it. Combeferre noticed how Enjolras kept rubbing his forearm; it wasn't something he had been doing earlier, not like the anxious glances, and the medical student couldn't help but worry.

It didn't take them long to get to Enjolras' rooms and the closer they got, the slower Enjolras walked. It was almost as if he didn't want to be there and Combeferre had to bite his lip from commenting on it. He just slowed his pace as well to match that of Enjolras. As soon as they arrived at the apartment building, both men greeted Enjolras' landlady – who had been told by Combeferre that Enjolras was out of town and therefore not inhabiting his rooms – and made their way up the stairs.

At Enjolras' front door, they stopped and stood next to each other in awkward silence. The blonde turned around and smiled at his friend. "Thank you Combeferre, I uh...I got it from here."

Combeferre frowned and looked up sadly at his younger friend. He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. He and Enjolras were far from how they usually were together. It shouldn't be like this. Awkward, distanced, detached. They couldn't even speak normally to each other anymore. It hurt Combeferre's heart more than anything he could remember. "Are you sure?"

Enjolras only nodded and averted his eyes again. Then he unlocked the door and stepped inside. Before he could close the door behind him however, Combeferre grabbed him gently by the shoulder. "Enjolras", he said shakely, "Please, just know that no matter what, you can always come to me. You mean more to me than anyone ever has. You're my best friend, Julien...Remember that."

Enjolras felt his bottom lip quiver and he bit down hard on it. He couldn't break down. Not now. And so he put up a smile and he tried to mean it. "I know 'Ferre, I do...I'll see you tonight at the meeting. I'll pick you up". And then he closed the door, no longer able to look in those brown eyes shining with fear, worry and compassion.

* * *

As soon as he was alone, Enjolras allowed the tears to fall. _You're an awful friend. You don't deserve him. He cares so much for you and you betray him like he's nothing more than a dog on the streets. _He dropped his bag on his desk and searched it for the small knife he knew was somewhere hidden in there. He was shaking and he couldn't get that look in Combeferre's eyes out of his head. He let himself drop down on the floor next to his desk, ripped the bandages from his arm and welcomed the sharp pain that followed as soon as he made yet another cut in his skin and reopened the ones he had made earlier that afternoon.

Immediately after, he felt sobs wrack his body. Sobs of guilt and fear. Of anger and of shame. Of disgust and of desperation. He was spiralling down and he was losing control. It was supposed to help. _Why doesn't it help?_ He made another cut and another and then he threw the knife away with a pain filled shout. Now that the pain finally did it's work again, he let out a small, relieved sigh.

After a while, he pressed a dirty cloth against the cuts to try and stop the bleeding. His hands were shaking fiercely. He knew he probably needed help; but he couldn't ask for it, not anymore, not ever. _You have to do this alone. You cán do this alone. Get yourself together for God's sake._

Slowly he stood up and stumbled towards his bedroom. He let himself collapse on the bed and focused on his breathing. He had to calm down. When he glanced down at his arm, he noticed the bleeding had already slowed and almost stopped. He eyed the thin, horizontal lines now decorating his arms and felt an unknown rage directed at himself flow through him. _This has to stop. I can't do this. _

But somewhere deep down, he knew he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. Not anymore. Not now that he had made this his way out. Not now that this was his only way of feeling something else than those wicked, dark emotions that threatened to engulf him fully. This was going to be his way of coping and he had to accept that.

TBC.

_(Okay, so another kind of depressing chapter. I know, I know and I'm sorry. But I will promise you that there will be a light at the end of the tunnel. I won't keep on torturing our poor blonde revolutionary forever, but that is all I will say for now. Please let me know what you think of this chapter in a review, I'd love to hear your opinion/ideas.) _


	18. Chapter 18

_(Hi everyone! Thank you all again so much for the support. I'm just going to keep on saying it, because it's the truth: it means A LOT to me! I really appreciate it and you guys help me to keep this story going. A big hug to all of you and I really hope you like the next chapter, enjoy!)_

Enjolras spent the next couple of hours laying on his side on the bed. He stared in the distance and thought about a lot of things and at the same time, he thought about nothing. It was almost as if he was in some sort of trance.

His breathing had calmed down and his wounded arm now lay stretched before him. The dirty cloth he had used to wrap up the cuts was now bloodied and forgotten on the floor. Enjolras traced the various cuts decorating his arm and felt his stomach flip. His own actions made him feel nauseous and ashamed.

For the first time in maybe a year he was reluctant to go to the meeting that night. He was tired – drained – and he was not looking forward to give a speech, let alone do small talk afterwards. He wanted nothing more than to just hide away and be on his own. To wallow in his own disgust and self-loathing. Which was ironic, because wasn't this new way of coping supposed to bring back order in his life? Wasn't it supposed to make him feel like nothing had changed? Wasn't it supposed to maintain his reputation?

No matter what he told himself or how many cuts he had made, he ended up feeling more miserable than he had before. He was scared. He hated to admit it, but he was terrified. Terrified of what he was doing to himself and of what he was turning into. He felt completely detached from the person he used to be and he had no idea how to get back.

Of course, rationally, he knew what he had to do. He knew he needed help and he needed that help fast before it was too late. But he couldn't. Not anymore, not now. Because what would they think of him? How could they ever respect him again or believe in him? He felt too disgraced to turn to his friends for help. Too ashamed, too humiliated and too weak.

Slowly, he traced the various cuts with his fingers and he shuddered at the sharp sting that light touch already caused. The cuts were red, puffy and angry-looking. It didn't take a doctor to see they were infected. But Enjolras couldn't bring himself to care. At least it offered a constant pain and wasn't that just what he was longing for?

He felt lost. As if he was drowning and falling at the same time and there was no one to catch him. _I am a disappointment. A disappointment to my family, to myself and a disgrace to my friends. _It wasn't the first time he felt miserable, but it had never gone to such high levels before and this was the first time he had to deal with it on his own. And he had no idea where to start. The only thing he could come up with was hurting himself more.

Maybe he could just stay home tonight and ask one of the others to give the speech and lead the meeting. But that would lead to questions and questions demanded answers and these were just answers he could not give. Besides, Combeferre's alarm bells were already ringing loudly and staying home would just lead to more concern on his part. No, he would just have to suck it up, go to the Musain and put on his mask. He could do that; he had done that many times before and he just had no other choice.

Sighing, he pushed up from the bed and dragged himself to the bathroom. There, he sat down and pulled some of the bandages out of the little cabinet– Combeferre and Joly always made sure all their friends had an emergency stash. Carefully he wrapped the white fabric around his arm; which was a hard thing to do if you could only use one arm. He winced when he tightened the knot atop the worst infected cuts and welcomed he sharp pain it caused.

He then walked back to the small bedroom and pulled out some clean clothes. It seemed to take him forever to get dressed. Every move he made hurt and his hands were shaking like a leaf. By the time he had finally managed to get his red jacket on, he was dizzy and panting heavily.

Slowly, he stumbled towards his desk and grabbed the notes and papers he needed for that night. He was all set to go, but he felt very anxious about leaving the house. He hadn't realized yet he was now supposed to walk the distance to Combeferre by himself and even though it would only take him a few minutes, he felt his heartbeat speed up. He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times and tried to calm down. He would just have to walk fast. _Walk fast, don't look back and just get to Combeferre's apartment as quick as you can_. He opened the door and stepped outside, ignoring the urge to turn right back and hide away in his rooms again.

* * *

With large, firm strides he made his way to his best friend, who was already waiting outside to meet him. When Enjolras spotted his friend, he felt so relieved, his knees nearly buckled and he had to catch himself on the wall to stay upright. His stomach dropped as soon as he saw the look in Combeferre's eyes. The wory; the fear; the pity.

"Are you alright?", the medical student asked concernedly, "You look close to collapsing". He immediately steadied his trembling friend and kept a firm arm around his waist. Combeferre had seen the look of relief in Enjolras' eyes, but he doubted his friend was just this shaky because he had been walking the distance by himself. He looked worse every time he saw him. "You're late", he murmured softly.

Enjolras forced himself to calm down and pushed Combeferre's helping hand away. "I'm fine…I was studying, lost track of time, I'm sorry. Let's just walk."

"You don't look fine, Enjolras…is it because you had to walk alone? You know I would've come and pick you up right?"

Enjolras clenched his teeth. He couldn't handle this. He couldn't bear this kindness and sincere concern; he didn't deserve any of it. "I said I'm fine Combeferre", he snarled, "I can take care of myself, I don't need you to babysit me."

The hurt and shock that flashed in Combeferre's eyes at his outburst were almost enough to have Enjolras break down right then and there. But he quickly swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed down hard on the knot beneath the sleeve of his jacket and shirt. "Are you coming?", he spoke; his tone softer and a little gentler this time.

"Right", the older boy said quietly, looking disappointed and a little annoyed, "Understood, I won't ask something that stupid again. Let's go." He didn't offer his friend a hand, nor did he voice his concerns when Enjolras' pace kept slowing down. He was still worried, but he didn't feel like getting snapped at time and again just for offering his help. If Enjolras didn't want it, then that was his choice. If he needed the help, he would just have to ask from now on. Although Combeferre highly doubted if the blonde would ever do just that.

Enjolras bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He swallowed thickly and couldn't deny the fact that Combeferre's comment and his refusal to slow down his own pace whenever that of Enjolras faltered, stung a little. But it was no more than he deserved and he knew that. So he forced his legs to go faster, just to keep up with the medical student. He felt a headache coming on and he knew he was burning up when he his skin started to ache and his jacket didn't provide the warmth it should have. The sooner this night was over, the better.

* * *

They didn't speak to each other until they arrived at the Café. There, Combeferre mumbled he had to ask Coureyrac something, but Enjorlas knew his friend just wanted to get away from him. He didn't blame him. He watched Combeferre walk over to the other side of the room and grimaced sadly when his friend greeted Courfeyrac, Joly and Jehan happily. Enjolras swallowed, looked to the floor and pressed down on his arm again.

"You alright there Apollo?"

Enjolras didn't turn around to see who the person was that spoke to him. He knew it was Grantaire and he felt a shudder go through his body. He didn't want to look at Grantaire, nor did he want to speak to him. He shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, grunted he was fine and tried to walk away, but the cynic stopped him.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you later tonight after the meeting? Nothing serious in particular, just something I need to get off my chest."

Enjolras was silent for a moment. He was in not in the mood for a talk with Grantaire – or a talk with anyone for that matter. He kept his eyes down and shook his head firmly. "I don't have time. I'm leaving after the meeting. I have enough work to do and I'm not in the mood for any of your drunken puns."

Grantaire frowned and even though he and Enjolras had never been close, he could immediately see why Combeferre was so worried about his best friend. He was in no way acting like himself. And although Grantaire could sense Enjolras was already on edge, he still tried again. He had made a promise and if Combeferre firmly believed he was the one to help his Apollo, then he wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Come on, Enjolras, I'm being honest here. I need to speak to you about something. It's important. You always have time for any of our Amis when they want to talk to you; I swear, it's not some drunken joke. I'm worried about you." As he said this, he gently grabbed Enjolras by the shoulder and tried to turn him around, so he could face him.

For a second he believed the blonde would allow him the favor he asked, but then he was roughly pushed away and he realized he had said the wrong thing. Enjolras looked at him furiously and raised his voice, causing everyone in the room to fall silent and look at him. "I don't need anyone to worry about me! I'm fine Grantaire, how many times do I have to say it. Since when did my statements lost their truth?" he exclaimed. Then he spun around and faced the rest of the room. "The next person to ask me if I'm fine, I swear to God…I need you all to stop with the worrying and stop with the pitiful looks! I don't need it and it's not necessary! And if that's all you want to do then just leave me alone, because I'm sick of it!"

Combeferre clenched his teeth. He knew those last words were directed at him. Grantaire was looking at the blonde in utter shock; his mouth slightly agape. Many of the other friends mimicked his expression. If any of them was doubting before; they were now all sure Enjolras was anything but fine.

"Now that that's clear, I'd like to start this meeting and I'd like to do that without any interrupting comments about my wellbeing", Enjolras fumed as he climbed atop a table. It took him great effort to remain upright as everything started to spin dangerously and his eyes didn't seem to focus. He closed his eyes tightly when he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and shuddered at the cold sweat that trickled down his back.

He had to swallow convulsively a couple of times before he felt confident enough to speak without throwing up. His voice however had lost all its strength and did in no way match the volume it had only a few minutes ago. He knew he was shaking and he knew he had to look awful. _Just get it done with and then you can go home_.

Enjolras saw how his friends approached him with concerned looks. He heard them asking questions, although he couldn't quite understand them, for there was a loud ringing in his ears. When he suddenly felt someone grab his injured arm, he gasped loudly at the pain and he knew he was going to black out. The last thought that crossed his mind before he fell into oblivion was that now his secret was out.

TBC.

_(Okay, so it seems as if Enjolras has given himself away with this little stunt. Or has he? I really hope you liked this chapter and that it lived up to your expectations. Please leave a review and tell me what you think!)_


	19. Chapter 19

_(Hi guys! Thank you all so much for your support! Means a lot to me :) A big thanks to all of you, I appreciate it so, so much. Here's another chapter. I struggled with it a lot, but I hope it turned out okay. I wanted to show the internal struggle within both Enjolras and Combeferre…Anyway, enjoy this chapter!)_

Combeferre was tired. Dead tired. He couldn't remember a time where he had been more exhausted than he was at this moment. Three days had passed since Enjolras collapsed in the Café. Three days filled with delirious talks, fever dreams and pained cries. Three days of desperate attempts to cool his body down, of cleaning out wounds and trying to comfort. Three days of wondering and worrying and asking himself how on earth he could have missed what was going on. Three days of anger and grief.

His fatigued eyes fell on the clean bandages covering Enjolras entire left arm. Combeferre gritted his teeth and wiped a hand over his face. There were no more tears. He had cried enough the past few days. Tears of fear; of anger and of guilt. _How could he not have seen? How could Enjolras do this to himself? What was happening to them?_

He thought back to the meeting of three days ago. Things had been far from comfortable between him and Enjolras, but the medical student was in no way prepared for what he was about to find out.

As soon as they had arrived at the Café, he had excused himself to go and talk to Courfeyrac, who was standing in the corner with Jehan and Joly. He told them his concerns and craved for some understanding and encouraging words from his friends. They had all been shocked when Enjolras suddenly started yelling at Grantaire and at the rest of them about how he was fine and how they all had to leave him the hell alone. No more than five minutes later, he would be lying unconscious on the cold hard floor…

Combeferre had seen it coming as soon as his friend climbed atop one of the tables. He was shaking and sweating and he had turned so, so pale. When Combeferre leaped forward to steady his friend and grabbed him by the arm, he did not miss the loud and pained gasp coming from the blonde. It shocked and confused him; he did not grab Enjolras that hard, did he? He didn't have much time to dwell on it however, because no sooner had he loosened his grip or Enjolras came crashing down. Out cold.

They were only just able to catch him. Joly had forced the Amis to back off and give him and Combeferre some space to check up on their friend. He was burning up; his skin close to translucent and his breathing was labored. It had scared Combeferre; _Enjolras hadn't looked so bad earlier, had he?_ Together with Joly, he tried to coax the blonde back to consciousness, which worked relatively well. But though Enjolras was awake and babbling, he was nowhere near coherent.

Sensing something more had to be going on than just a cold or anything like that, Combeferre helped Enjolras up and asked Joly and Courfeyrac to accompany him and Enjolras back to his apartment, where they would have more privacy and Enjolras would hopefully be more comfortable. The four of them left, leaving a group of anxious and fearful looking friends behind.

It took only half an hour longer for the three Amis to have their world come crashing down. As soon as they got to Combeferre's rooms, they had put Enjolras on the bed in the spare room. When they rid him of his red jacket, all fell silent. The left sleeve of his shirt was covered in blood. Joly carefully undid the buttons of Enjolras' shirt and took it off, along with the dirty bandages wrapped around his left arm. Not one of the three friends was prepared for what they saw.

Multiple cuts - there were at least ten of them - covered Enjolras' forearm; stretching from his wrist to his elbow and then there were another three on his upper arm. Courfeyrac cursed loudly at the sight and Joly inhaled sharply, tears sparkling in his eyes. Combeferre didn't say or do anything; he could only stare. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It couldn't be true. He had to be dreaming; this had to be some sort of nightmare.

But it was true and Combeferre was snapped out of his shock by Joly, who kept asking him for his medical supplies. "Combeferre? 'Ferre! There's no time for this, they are infected, we need to clean them out immediately…Combeferre! Get your supplies, now! And Courfeyrac, bring us boiled water and towels."

Combeferre obeyed, though he moved as if he was in some sort of trance. The same questions kept running through his head. _How could I have missed this? Why did he do this? How could he? I should've helped him; I should've know. He should've told me._

The following few hours went by fast. Joly and Combeferre cleaned the wounds and stitched up the cuts, while Courfeyrac sat close to Enjolras' head and tried to speak words of comfort to him so that he would remain calm throughout the medical procedure. It was of little help though, as Enjolras was hardly aware what was happening to him. He kept mumbling he was fine; that he had everything under control. Then the next he claimed to be scared and he looked up at Courfeyrac with pleading eyes, only to have them role back into their sockets when the pain got too bad and he lost consciousness again.

When the wounds were treated, Combeferre and Joly set to cooling Enjolras' body down as much as possible. Enjolras had tried to fight them off, but he had hardly any strength left. The two medical students then forced the revolutionary to swallow two spoons full of Laudanum to take the edge of the pain and to make sure he fell asleep. So that his body could get the rest it so desperately needed. The three friends took turns in sitting with Enjolras, although Combeferre never left his side.

* * *

That all happened three days ago. The three of them had agreed not to tell their friends about Enjolras' presumable self-harm yet. They could hardly get round the idea themselves and Combeferre wanted to speak to Enjolras about it first.

The only one who did find out what was really wrong, was Grantaire. The drunkard had stopped by Combeferre's apartment the day after the meeting and Combeferre felt obligated to tell him. The news hit Grantaire hard and it had left the cynic at a loss for words. He had wanted to speak to Enjolras right that minute, but Joly refused him access. The blonde was far too weak and in no state to have a conversation. He wasn't even aware of the things happening around him in his feverish state.

Combeferre had hardly slept at all the past days. An hour here, a minute there, but that was all. He spent his time pondering on how things had to go from here. What was he going to say to Enjolras when the blonde was finally getting better again? How was he going to approach this?

Enjolras had been awake a few times during those three days, but there were almost no lucid moments. And at the times that Enjolras seemed to know what was going on, he just stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge any of his friends.

But the fever had broken last night, and Combeferre knew it was only a matter of time before they would come to the confrontation. He did not look forward to it, although he was relieved Enjolras finally seemed to be on the mend. Physically. Mentally, Combeferre feared they were nowhere near close to healing.

* * *

It was late afternoon on the fourth day when Enjolras blinked his eyes open. He stared at the ceiling and tried to make something out of his hazy mind. _What had happened?_ He remembered the meeting; he remembered feeling sick, but that was pretty much it. There were flashes of concerned faces and comforting words, but he could not place them.

He felt remarkably better the last time he could remember, but when his eyes drifted towards his freshly bandaged arm, a wave of nausea washed over him. _They knew_. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes in despair. _They knew and now it was over. They wouldn't understand; they would think him weak; they would hate him; they would be disgusted.  
_  
"How are you feeling?"

A tired voice startled Enjolras out of his destructive thoughts. Slowly he turned his head and he felt his stomach flip multiple times when his eyes met Combeferre's. His friend looked awful. He was pale and looked exhausted; dark circles a stark contrast with the rest of his skin. The look in his eyes was one Enjolras couldn't really place. The question had been genuine, but Enjolras knew it was only a matter of time before the subject would change to the wounds on covering his arm.

He shifted uncomfortably and averted his eyes again. He didn't answer the question. Instead, Enjolras whispered. "Does everybody know?" He cursed his own voice; he sounded so weak and small.

Combeferre blinked a few times. No beating around the bush then…straight to the point. He noticed the defeat, fear and embarrassment in Enjolras voice and he suddenly felt very angry. _How could he have done this to them? To himself?_ _To me?_ When he answered though, he was careful to keep his voice steady and calm.

"No. Not everybody."

Enjolras turned to look at him again when he spoke. A questioning look in his eyes. Combeferre pulled a hand through his hair and sighed deeply again. "Joly and Courfeyrac know. They helped me to take you home after you collapsed. That was three days ago. You've been delirious with fever from infection and bloodloss most of the time, so it's not weird if your mind is fuzzy." Enjolras averted his eyes again, but his head snapped back up when Combeferre added. "Grantaire knows too."

"Why the hell did you tell Grantaire? It's none of his business. It's none of anyone's business for that matter", he spat angrily, although his eyes showed only shame, pain and fear…fear of being judged.

Combeferre raised his eyebrows a little as he looked Enjolras straight in the eyes. He clenched his jaw for a moment and had to count to ten inwardly to keep from losing control. "Don't you dare", he whispered then, "Don't you dare get mad at me, Julien."

Enjolras made a small sound; something between a snort and a sob. "You don't understand", he whispered quietly.

"You're right", Combeferre answered frustrated, "I don't understand any of this Enjolras. I don't understand how it is possible that you'd rather cut your own skin than come and talk to me. Is it so hard for you to trust me?" He had to swallow the rest of his words. He knew he had to be careful about this. Blaming Enjolras for what he did would only make things worse. He reached out and turned his friend's head towards him, so that he could look at him. "Why did you do it, Julien?"

Enjolras didn't answer right away. He didn't know what to say. Inside he was panicking, but he couldn't let Combeferre see that right? He had to keep control. He took a shaky breath and decided it was best to just be honest with his friend. "Because it helps, 'Ferre…" He fought against the tears in his eyes and continued, "It helps against the memories and the nightmares…I can't think about them, I don't want to, I need to forget it and move on…The pain helps me do that, it keeps me grounded, and I know it sounds awful, but I need it 'Ferre…"

The medical student laughed sadly and shook his head. "It helps you…", he whispered. "So you only do it when you think of what happened to you? You didn't make any of those cuts, because you felt guilty for making them in the first place?" When Enjolras bit the inside of his cheek guiltily, Combefere continued. "Don't tell me it helps you Enjolras, you know that's not true."

"I don't need to justify myself to you", the blonde mumbled defiantly.

"No you don't", Combeferre snarled, and then added in a somewhat gentler voice, "You do need to do some serious thinking however Julien. Because you're going down a path that I refuse to follow. I'd do anything to help you, you know that. You mean more to me than anyone and I'd die for you in a second, but I refuse to be a part of this. If you continue this, you'll lose me, Julien…And not only me. Think about that."

They stared at each other for a while; tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Enjolras was the first to speak. "Fine… leave then."

Combeferre's world was spinning. He hadn't really expected anything else from Enjolras at this point. He had been discussing this moment with Grantaire and Courfeyrac for a few days now and they had decided that this was the best way to go about it. Combeferre would go in first; offer his help and if Enjolras rejected, someone else would come in and try to talk some sense in to him. And Enjolras did not want his help; that much was clear. So Combeferre wouldn't help; not yet. He smiled sadly at his friend and nodded a few times.

"Alright then", and with those words he stood and left the room, leaving a dumbstruck Enjolras behind.

He was confused and shocked. The blonde would've never thought Combeferre would really go. Part of him screamed to take his words back; to accept the help that was being offered to him. But another part of him forced him to be silent. It was that darker part; that part that also convinced him to turn to the path he had taken. The part of him that kept telling him how he wasn't worth anything. He watched as Combeferre closed the door behind him and he felt tears well in his eyes. _Don't let them fall. This is your choice. Deal with it.  
_  
As soon as Combeferre came out of Enjolras' room, he was met with two concerned faces. He shook his head dejectedly and let himself collapse on the couch with a sigh. "Your turn, 'Taire", he whispered sadly and then he broke down; sobs wracking his exhausted frame.

TBC.

_(Okay…I really don't know if this is any good. I found it really hard to write this chapter, but I hope it turned out okay. Next one will finally include the long overdue conversation between Grantaire and Enjolras. Maybe he'll be able to snap our revolutionary out of it. Please review and let me know what you think? Ideas are always welcome!)_


	20. Chapter 20

_(Hi everyone! Wow, thank you guys all so much for the response I got to the last chapter. It means so much to me :) Here's finally the part that I know many of you have been waiting for: the confrontation between Enjolras and Grantaire. I tried to put it all in one chapter, but in the end, I've decided to spread it out over two :) Hope you don't mind! Enjoy)_

Grantaire watched how a defeated looking Combeferre re-entered the small living room. The look on the man's face told the drunkard enough. Enjolras had refused his offer to help and the blonde probably didn't want to be helped at all. By no one.

And even though Grantaire felt horrible for Enjolras, that utterly broken expression on Combeferre's face made him angry. Combeferre didn't deserve to be treated this way. He was Enjolras' best friend; always had been and he had only been trying to help their leader through this difficult time. It wasn't fair that he was now the one looking so heartbreakingly depressed. It wasn't right.

The drunkard knew it would now be his turn to confront Enjolras. He, Combeferre and Courfeyrac had discussed the matter beforehand and they'd all agreed that if Combeferre wouldn't be successful, neither would Courfeyrac because they were both too close to the revolutionary. That left Grantaire. Grantaire the cynic; Grantaire the drunkard; He, who was always butting heads with Enjolras; who never got along with him; and who angered him every other day. But also he, who could relate to Enjolras in more ways than any of the other Amis could. Especially now.

He had been trying to think on how to approach the matter, but to be honest, he had no idea. He knew Enjolras didn't want pity or compassion. But he wasn't sure how the blonde would react to anger either. And that still left the fact that it was Grantaire who was going to talk to Enjolras, and Grantaire wasn't one of the people Enjolras enjoyed listening to. His presence alone could sometimes be enough to annoy the revolutionary.

He watched nervously as Courfeyrac pulled the now quietly sobbing medical student in his arms. He wasn't really sure what to do. Did Combeferre want him to go and talk to Enjolras right this moment? Or should they first speak things over again? Discuss how Grantaire was supposed to approach this? He swallowed a few times and cleared his throat once. When he realized neither Courfeyrac or Combeferre were going to give him attention any time soon, he decided to just go for it and he walked into Enjolras' bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

Grantaire had been told by Combeferre and Joly how seriously sick Enjolras had been. They told him about the high fevers; the hallucinations...the bloodloss...and of course the multiple cuts. And since all that had only been three days ago, Grantaire had tried to prepare himself for finally seeing Enjolras again. He knew his Apollo would probably look broken; his marble statue cracked; psychically as well as emotionally.

But even if would have been preparing for weeks, the sight that met him when he opened the door shocked him to his very core. To finally see how far his blonde god had slipped away from them already felt like someone had gripped Grantaire's heart in an iron grip and yanked it out without mercy. He took in the pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes; the messy hair that had lost its brilliance; the vacant and slightly glazed over look in eyes that were usually bright with passion. He also noticed how skinny Enjolras had become over the past week and a half and he felt a shiver travel down his spine when his eyes fell on the stark white bandages wrapped around almost his entire left arm.

He swallowed nervously a few times; all sorts of emotions ran through his head. He felt scared, angry, sad and confused at the same time, and he was still struggling on which emotion he should act. He was about to speak up, but Enjolras beat him to it, although the blonde did not even care to lift his head and look at him.

"Something you want? Or did you just come to gloat?" The words were spoken viciously, although Grantaire thought he noticed a slight tremor there as well. He frowned confusedly, shook his head and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"Do I have something to gloat about?" he asked silently, slightly irritated that Enjolras still refused to look at him. Even though he knew the blonde probably still found it hard considering he had been witness to what had happened to him. "I'm only here to talk, that's not too much to ask I hope? I even came relatively sober..."

"Did Combeferre send you in? Because I told him I don't need any of your help. Especially not yours. I'm very well capable of taking care of myself." Enjolras snarled at the drunkard. He really didn't want to do this. His talk with Combeferre had left him drained and to be honest, he felt emotionally very unstable. The guilt and disgust was making him nauseous and he wanted nothing more than to just be alone. Facing his friends proved to be more difficult every time and his self-hatred grew even larger when he saw the broken and desperate expressions in their eyes. He just wanted things to go back to normal but no matter what he did, it all seemed to get worse.

His eyes met Grantaire's for a brief second and for the first time he saw something different flashing there than the pity, worry and sympathy that was present in the eyes of the other Amis. He saw anger and something close to disappointment. He'd never seen disappointment directed at him in Grantaire's eyes. It was unsettling.

"No, nobody _sent_ me in Enjolras. I make my own decisions and I can see you're doing perfectly fine indeed. You are so well capable of taking care of yourself that you decide to decorate your own skin in cuts and then let them get infected. I haven't seen them, but I'm sure you're quite the artist." Grantaire felt his frustration and anger with the blonde in front of him grow by the second and he knew he would have to be careful if he wanted to keep control of the conversation. He and Enjolras were known for their heated debates that usually completely diverted from the subject they started on.

Enjolras looked up and narrowed his eyes at Grantaire. His words had hit him hard, but he refused to let that show. "What do you want, winecask? I have no desire to speak with you, so just spit it out or leave me alone", Enjolras said coolly.

Grantaire looked back at the blonde with one eyebrow raised. He knew very well what Enjolras was trying to do. Anger was the only thing he had left now to mask how truly lost and broken he felt. He was fighting everyone and everything and he was reluctant to let anyone too close. "I want to tell you something", he started, "about my time in Paris before I met Bahorel and the rest of you."

He had been thinking long and hard about what he wanted to talk about with Enjolras ever since Combeferre visited him that afternoon five days ago. And even though he still didn't know exactly which way he wanted to go with this, he knew he wanted Enjolras to know about his past. "About how I knew Louis and Antoine."

If it was possible, Enjolras would have paled even further at the mentioning of those two names. He averted his eyes and swallowed nervously. "What makes you think I want to hear about that?" he asked quietly, but his whole posture had changed from angry and rigid to frightened and huddled. Grantaire chose to ignore that question and just continued his story. He aimed to keep it short and factual, he only wanted to use it to make a point.

"I was 14 going on 15 at that time. My parents kicked me out of the house and I was pretty much living the thug life on the streets of Paris. I'm not going to bother you with all my misery, let's just say it was one of the darker periods of my life and I've done things I'm not exactly proud of," he glanced at Enjolras, who was pretending not to be interested in the story at all, but Grantaire knew he was listening intently.

"I spent most of my time in that unfortunate neighbourhood you found yourself in almost two weeks ago and it was also there that I first came across Louis and Antoine. They tried to pull some shit on me, they...ah...well, I'm not going to lie, they succeeded in some of their attempts, although most of the time I was able to fight them off before things could go all too bad...And I know, one would thinkg: 'why didn't you just leave that place?' 'Why not seek your fortune somewhere else?' But you know Apollo, I was very different then from what I am now. I was insecure and I didn't have anywhere to go, I didn't have any chance of getting hired anywhere and though Louis and Antoine did things I found repulsive, they did give me food and a roof over my head. So I stayed..."

This time, Enjolras was looking at him, although Grantaire had difficulty to fathom his expression. He did notice how the blonde had clenched his hands into fists and he saw small beams of sweat trickling down his neck. Grantaire had no doubt Enjolras was trying his hardest to fight his own memories at hearing Grantaire's.

"After a while, they wanted to strike a deal with me. They promised me they wouldn't touch me anymore or make me do stuff to them if I provided them with substitutes..."

Grantaire allowed Enjolras a moment to let this sink in. It only took a couple of seconds before Enjolras' eyes went slightly wide and Grantaire was sure he saw a flash of fear and repulsion in those blue eyes.

"You brought them victims", Enjolras whispered. It wasn't a question, it was a statement and Grantaire could only nod guiltily.

"I..uh...I lured other orphans or homeless boys or men – always men, they didn't want women – to their home", he swallowed thickly a few times and blinked the tears in his eyes away, "Afterwards I always tried to make them as comfortable as possible. I gave them food and water and I brought them back to safer places. The guilt was eating me alive, but I always felt like I had no other option. It was me or them. And I continued doing that until I was nearing my 16 years. Until...until...one time things went very wrong and Louis and Antoine had their hands on a boy, such a young boy still and I tried to safe him...They killed him right before my eyes..."

Enjolras' head was spinning. He'd never thought much about Grantaire's past, but something like this...he would never have guessed it. And he didn't know if he should be angry with the drunkard, or feel sorry for him. He didn't know and it frustrated him. All he could do was stare blankly at Grantaire and say nothing. It also wasn't really clear to him why Grantaire was telling this in the first place...wasn't he supposed to try and talk some sense into Enjolras? Like Combeferre had tried to do? How was Grantaire going to do that with this story? Enjolras wondered if Combeferre knew about it.

"I left that night. I ran and I kept running until my legs could not carry me any farther. For some reason I had landed in a bar and there I collapsed; sick with guilt and self-hatred. It was the first night I drank myself into oblivion and I never stopped doing that ever since. I met Bahorel a few days later and I don't know why, but we got along pretty well and he took me under his wing; he helped me get a job...I drank the money I earned away...and he helped me to my small apartment. I don't know why it took me so long to find the courage to leave those two, but I do know that it is something that I'll have to carry with me for the rest of my life. It's why I drink; it's why I'm cynical and miserable and it's why I don't believe in anything..."

Grantaire looked Enjolras deep in the eyes and leaned forwards a little. "Except for you. From the moment I saw you I believed in you Apollo; I believed you to be a God, an immortal being, walking among us humans," he hesitated a little and then added, "Until now." His eyes shifted to the bandages around Enjolras' arm and the blonde shifted uncomfortably in the bed.

* * *

Enjolras was panicking. He had no idea what to do with all this information. He had no idea what Grantaire wanted him to do with it or what he wanted from him. He was confused and he didn't understand. Somehow, Grantaire's story had made him feel even more disgusted with himself. Even more ashamed and even a bigger failure. He longed for comfort; he yearned for help, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. _I can't go back_.

And so, instead of acting on his feelings, Enjolras pretended not to be touched by Grantaire's story at all. He was not pulling off his mask. Not yet, maybe not ever.

"That's all very sad, Grantaire and to be quite honest, shocking too, but what on earth do want me to do with it? It doesn't have anything to do with me. You and I are in no way similar. I don't drink away my troubles and I have complete control over my actions. I don't _need_ anyone or anything to help me with my problems, because I don't _have_ any problems. So if you'll just leave now and let me be, that would be great."

He wasn't even aware of how very fast he was talking or how his vision was swimming with tears. What he was aware of, however, was Grantaire's furious look and he realized he might have just made a mistake. He jumped at Grantaire's fist slamming down on the bedside table and he flinched a little when the drunkard raised his voice.

No, this conversation was far from over...and suddenly, Enjolras found himself very much wishing it was Combeferre who was with him instead of Grantaire.

TBC.

_(So this chapter focused more on Grantaire's own experience with Louis and Antoine. Next chapter, Grantaire will get angrier and he'll try to force Enjolras to see reason. If that works...we'll have to wait and see. I hope you've enjoyed the revelation of Grantaire's past and I hope you don't mind that I've tried to keep it 'short'. I don't think Grantaire would have been all touchy feeling and share and caring when sharing his past with Enjolras, and I tried to stay close to Grantaire's character. If you liked the chapter, please let me know in a review? Till next time!) _


	21. Chapter 21

_(I love you guys! You are all so kind to follow, review and favorite this story and it means so much to me! Here's the second part of Grantaire's confrontation with Enjolras and I hope you like it! Enjoy)_

Grantaire's blood was boiling. He didn't recognize this Enjolras. This wasn't his Apollo; this wasn't his golden God he looked up to so badly. The way Enjolras was acting at this point was selfish, spoiled and downright infuriating.

He had just told his life story to Enjolras, the leader of the Amis; the one who was supposed to fight for les abaissees. He had told him the story he had been trying to drink away ever since he got out of it; the things he was most ashamed of, but was forced into. And Enjolras just waved it away like it was nothing. Noting more than the stupid decisions of a drunken man.

He had hoped that Enjolras would see a little reason after telling him about his past. He hoped that the blond would realize he wasn't alone in this and that there were actually more similarities between him and Grantaire than he would've ever thought. He hadn't expected the revolutionary to completely turn around and acknowledge his pain and fear, but he had hoped for a more understanding response.

_I don't drink away my troubles. I have complete control over my actions. I don't need any help_. How an intelligent man like Enjolras could be so completely blind when it came to his own being, was beyond Grantaire and it angered him in ways he had never thought possible.

He angrily slammed his fist on the bedside table and glared at Enjolras, who jumped visibly at the noise and Grantaire couldn't help but finding some satisfaction in that. At least the blond wasn't completely untouched by his emotions.

"You have complete control over your actions?" he all but growled, "are you kidding me right now? Are you honestly that blind?" He narrowed his eyes dangerously at Enjolras as he spat out that last sentence.

Enjolras glowered back at him; nowhere near ready to back down. Deep down he knew very well Grantaire was right. Hell, they were all right. He knew he was falling; he knew he was losing himself; but somehow he just couldn't admit that. Not to his friends and especially not to himself.

"You have no right to lecture me, Grantaire. You waste your life away in the bottle, you drink to forget what happened to you instead of dealing with it. You chose your own destructive path and you don't believe in anything. Did you even try to redeem yourself in any way?" – Grantaire flinched at that – "how dare you come and tell me what I should and should not do when you yourself are the perfect example of a complete failure?"

Enjolras couldn't believe what he was saying. Why was he doing this? He felt disgusted by his own words and he wished he could take them back, but instead he just kept talking.

"It's laughable you know that? That you of all people are trying to make me see reason. Where's your bottle Grantaire?"

Grantaire had thought hearing such words from his Apollo would break his heart, but they didn't. They didn't hold any worth to him, because they were spoken in a desperate attempt of defense. A defense that was visibly faltering by the minute. Grantaire could see it in Enjolras' facial expressions; in the way his arguments held no credibility at all and in the way his hand was hovering automatically over his bandaged arm; ready to inflict pain. _He doesn't even realize he's doing it_.

He offered the blond a disdainful smirk. "And how are you in any way different from all those things Apollo? You say I drink to forget what happened to me, that is true, I'll give you that. But you're doing the exact same thing, though you've chosen a different way to do it. A slightly more dramatic way if I may add. And you honestly think this is going to hold up your reputation? Cutting your own skin again and again until you feel the slightest bit like yourself, only to fall into a deeper hole afterwards?"

Grantaire noticed how Enjolras' eyes widened ever so slightly and for a moment he wondered if he should go a little more easy on the blond, but then he remembered Combeferre's breakdown and the words just kept flowing out of his mouth.

"Yeah, no you're the perfect example of a leader fighting for the people. You can't even hold yourself together Enjolras. You're drowning and no matter how much you try to hide it, it's visible for everyone to see. You are too stubborn to admit you're not _fine_, and for a reason that I don't even understand. Do you honestly think there is anyone out there who'd lay his trust in you? A stuck up child that is too arrogant to accept the help that your friends offer you."

"Shut up", Enjolras whispered.

"In your passionate speeches, you speak of the equality of men; you say that no one is above another and yet here you are, placing yourself above your own friends. Do you think so little of them? Do you not have any faith or trust in them? They'd lay down their life for you and you don't deem them worthy enough to seek help from. You'd rather cut your own skin." Grantaire huffed patronizingly and shook his head in disbelieve. "You don't deserve to be the symbol of the cause you care so much about."

Enjolras' eyes were filled with tears he refused to shed. He shot Grantaire a deadly look. "Hold your tongue, you winecask, you know nothing about me. You don't know what I'm going through and you know nothing about my feelings. You have no right to judge the choices I make. You come to scoff me every meeting and suddenly you think you have a right to lecture me. It doesn't work like that, Grantaire. Your words will never have any effect on me, because they're spoken by a drunken cynic who doesn't see faith or reason in anything."

Grantaire leaned forward closely and took hold of Enjolras' chin. He'd never thought himself to be in this position either, but every word Enjolras shot at him made him more determined to break through to his Apollo. It was hard to remember that only little more than a week ago, Enjolras had sought comfort with him in the café; had broken down in his arms. He almost cried at the memory. His Apollo was falling, but Grantaire was going to be the one to catch him. No matter how mean or low he had to get.

"Do you even hear yourself Apollo? Do you realize how hollow your words are?", he searched the younger ones face in the hope of seeing any sign of surrender, but there was none. Not yet. "I have _every _right to speak at you the way I do; every right to judge you and every right to lecture you. It may not have occurred to you, but I have the same friends as you do. And I see those friends breaking down because you reject them time and again. And I'm sick of it Enjolras. They don't deserve it and I'm starting to wonder if you even deserve them."

It was a low blow and the words hit Enjolras hard. He looked up shocked at Grantaire and the cynic wondered if that had been a step too far. The blond looked like a kicked puppy and it almost made Grantaire wish he had swallowed those last words. But he also knew he now had Enjolras right where he wanted him and so he kept his voice steady and his look hard.

"You are right when you tell me that I haven't dealt with my troubles at all. That is true, but our situations were completely different Enjolras. Not only have I got to deal with guilt that I'll never get rid of, I also did not have any friends when all this happened to me. I had no other choice than to deal with it myself and even I can admit that the way I've done that is far from ideal, but I've accepted it and that's just the way it is for me now."

Enjolras wringed his chin out of Grantaire's hold and opened his mouth to speak, but Grantaire was nowhere near finished.

"You on the other hand, Enjolras, have no guilt whatsoever. What happened to you was tragic and I understand how it makes you feel, I do, because I've been there myself, but it is all on Louis and Antoine. None of it can be blamed on you. _None of it_. And unlike myself back then, you do have friends. You have a whole group of them, ready to follow you wherever you go. They'd die for you in a second, you know that? And they'd never – _never_ – look down on you for what happened. They'd never think lesser of you. How can you even believe that? They'd follow you to hell and back and this is how you repay them."

Grantaire knew he wasn't including himself when he spoke about their friends, because he wasn't sure if Enjolras saw him as such. But he did want his Apollo to know that he'd do all those things as well. He lowered his voice and spoke in a gentler tone this time. "And no matter how low you think of me, Enjolras, all those things go for me as well. I would never mock you for what happened and it certainly would not be a reason for me to think less of you as a leader."

Grantaire saw how a first, lone tear slid down Enjolras' face and how he wiped it away as fast as he could. He refused to look at Grantaire anymore, but his hand was now tightly pressed against his bandaged arm and Grantaire wondered if he should pull it away. Before he could decide on it however, Enjolras spoke so very softly, Grantaire almost missed it.

"I do have guilt."

"No, you don't", Grantaire said through gritted teeth. He immediately knew what Enjolras was talking about. "I _told_ you that before. What happened there had nothing to do with you. It doesn't mean anything, it's just a biological reaction and it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Enjolras turned a bright shade of red and only frowned, clearly not convinced.

"You need to seriously think things over Enjolras, because you're losing everything at the rate you're going. Did you know Combeferre is out there crying his eyes out because he can't reach you? Have you any idea what you're doing to him? He's your best friend; you mean everything to him. You're practically brothers and you treat him like he isn't even worth a second of your time. Does that mean anything to you?"

Enjolras' head snapped up at that. His stomach turned into a tight knot and suddenly all he could see was Combeferre's broken expression. "Of course it does", he whispered, his voice thick with emotion and sorrow.

"Well, it doesn't look like it", Grantaire said as he stood up from the chair and walked to the door. He knew there was nothing more he could say to Enjolras. He hoped he had gotten through to him, it almost looked like he did, but this was Enjolras, and the blond could be as unpredictable as could be. "I used to place you on the highest pedestal, you know that Enjolras? You were the only thing I had faith in; the only thing I believed in, but I don't think I do anymore…not if you continue like this." And he closed the door behind him, leaving a shattered Enjolras behind.

* * *

Enjolras' mind was spinning. He felt sick and awful and dizzy with disgust. _You're a disgrace. You don't deserve your friends. They're too good for you. You treat them like dirt, they should hate you. It's despicable. You're despicable. _Tears were now freely running down his face and he was digging his fingers harder into the bandages around his injured arm. It wasn't enough. It didn't hurt enough. _You're not worth anything. _

Before he knew it, the bandages were off and he was clutching at the healing wounds desperately, sobs now wracking his body. He didn't hear the door open again and he only became aware of another presence in the room when he felt fingers pry away his hands from his injuries and two strong arms around him.

When he realized it was Combeferre who was holding him, the sobs only grew harsher and he buried his face in the medical student's chest. He hung on for dear life. Whispering apologies. And then finally – _finally_ – he found the words he had been wanting to say for so long now. And he felt Combeferre's arms tighten around him as they spilled out of his mouth over and over again.

"Please help me."

TBC.

_(Pheeew, glad I got that off my chest. This was an emotional chapter to write. I sincerely hope you liked it though and that it was believable. Please review and till next time!) _


	22. Chapter 22

_(Hi guys! You are amazing :) I'd never expected the response I got on the last chapter, thank you so, so much. I'm so happy you liked the confrontation between Grantaire and Enjolras, I was really hoping you would like that chapter, so I'm happy! Here's the next one, enjoy!)_

* * *

Combeferre and Courfeyrac had grown quiet as soon as the yelling inside the other room began. They hadn't noticed when Grantaire slipped inside Enjolras' room and they were now wondering if they should interfere or not. Enjolras and Grantaire were known for their heated fights and both boys feared it might escalate this time, because both leader and drunkard were far from stable in their emotions.

"Do you think we should go in?" Courfeyrac mumbled quietly, while still holding a firm grip on the medical student.

Combeferre was silent for a moment and then shook his head. "I think we should give Grantaire a chance…After all, he understands more about what Julien is going through than any other of us…And we have both seen that my approach isn't working, maybe this is just what Enjolras needs right now, even though I don't like him getting worked up in his condition." He let out a shaky breath and leaned his head on Courfeyrac's shoulder. He still couldn't believe this was happening.

Courfeyrac nodded and squeezed his friend's arm reassuringly. "He'll be alright, 'Ferre, you'll see", he said softly, but his own doubts were now very much present. He had never before seen Enjolras in a state even close to this and it frightened him that someone so strong and independent could lose himself so suddenly and so fiercely.

"I pray to God you're right, Courf, because I don't know what I would do if I lost him", Combeferre whispered brokenly, "I can't lose him…"

"You won't", Courfeyrac stated seriously, "Let's just wait here patiently and give Grantaire his moment…Can I get you something? Something to eat or drink maybe?"

Combeferre shook his head dejectedly and let out a deep sigh. "No, I don't need anything…just…just stay with me?"

The other student smiled genuinely and put an arm around Combeferre's shoulders. "Of course I'll stay 'Ferre. I'm not going anywhere."

And then they both fell silent; lost in their own minds; thinking about better times and pondering on how things could've gone wrong so fast and so sudden. They were both sunken so deep into thought that they almost didn't notice Grantaire's reappearance had it not been for the slamming of the door.

* * *

The cynic looked flushed and was panting heavily, muttering curses under his breath. Before he could speak however, Combeferre crowded his vision; eyes wide and full of hope. "What happened? How did it go? Is he alright? What did you say to him, we heard shouting.."

Grantaire pinched the bridge of his nose and suddenly wished he had brought something to drink with him. _Where's your bottle, Grantaire?_ He shuddered at the hatred that had poured out of that one sentence.

"He is the most hardheaded person walking this earth, I swear to God", Grantaire mumbled angrily but softened his expression when he saw Combeferre's face fall. He sighed and pulled Combeferre back down on the couch, sharing a concerned look with Courfeyrac at the same time. "I told him about my history and he waved it away like it was nothing. So I got angry and I told him that he was being arrogant and self-absorbed and…well, actually, I just told him he was being stupid", he huffed indignantly and when he locked eyes with Combeferre he added: "Which he is! And someone just had to tell him that, because he's not only bringing himself down, but all of you as well and that is just not acceptable…"

He averted his eyes and looked at the ground, suddenly wondering if he had been going about things completely the wrong way. But Enjolras was being so stubborn and so oblivious to the hurt he was causing everyone around him and that just made Grantaire furious..

"How did he react?" Courfeyrac whispered, and when he felt Combeferre tense up next to him, he rubbed his arm reassuringly again.

Grantaire swallowed and thought back at his conversation with the blond. "He was angry at first…Already annoyed that I had the guts to come in and talk to him, but uh…well….it was actually quite obvious that he was panicking, because he kept attacking me with these empty insults and then later on he seemed more shocked and lost than angry…" He paused and looked up precariously at the other two. "Maybe I shouldn't have left him alone", he mumbled softly, more to himself than to Combeferre or Courfeyrac.

"What do you mean, you shouldn't have left him alone?" Combeferre asked sharply, "Grantaire? Did he try something?"

But before Grantaire could answer, Combeferre was already on his feet and bolting towards the door of his spare bedroom. His breath hitched in his throat when he jerked it open and saw his friend sitting up straight in the bed; clutching at the bandages and the injuries on his arm in some sort of panic attack.

Without wasting another minute, he leaped forward and pried Enjolras' hand away from his arm. "Stop it, Julien, stop it! It's alright, please don't do this. Come on, stop, please stop, Julien." But Enjolras didn't even seem to hear Combeferre. He kept digging his nails in the healing wounds and whispered words that broke Combeferre's already shattered heart.

"You're disgusting, you don't deserve them. You don't deserve anyone. You're weak; not worth anything…Failure…They'll hate you…you're despicable; a disgrace". Enjolras chanted the same things over and over again; as if in some sort of trance and he was completely oblivious to Combeferre's presence until the medical student managed to pull his hand away and captured both of his friend's arms in a tight embrace. He whispered pleading and comforting words in Enjolras' ear and suddenly felt he blonde slump against him, as if all the energy had left him at once.

"I'm sorry…please, I'm sorry, please don't leave? Please, don't go, I'm sorry…'Ferre…I'm sorry…please", Enjolras managed to whisper in between the sobs now shaking his whole body and all Combeferre could do was tighten his hold and tell his friend over and over again that he was never going to leave. Enjolras fisted his hands in Combeferre's shirt and buried his face in his friend's chest; all the while apologizing and begging Combeferre to stay with him. And then finally – finally – the blond whispered the words that Combeferre had hoped to hear for nearly two weeks now. And once they were spoken for the first time; Enjolras kept repeating them desperately.

"Help me…please, 'Ferre, please help me? I can't do this anymore, but I can't stop either…please help me? I need help…I'm sorry, please don't leave, please help me?"

Combeferre pressed a light kiss on the top of Enjolras' head and placed one hand at the nape of his neck. "It's alright, Julien…we'll be alright, I promise. You'll be okay, I'm right here. I'm right here; not going anywhere."

From the door opening both Grantaire and Courfeyrac silently watched the scene in front of them. Courfeyrac had tears of his own trickling down his cheeks while Grantaire stood there with an unfathomable expression on his face. Neiher Enjolras nor Combeferre payed attention to the students in the doorway. And when Enjolras finally asked Combeferre for help, Grantaire pulled Courfeyrac away and closed the door quietly.

Combeferre didn't loosen his hold until Enjolras started to calm a little and the heart wrenching sobs had died down. And even then he didn't let go. Enjolras pressed his forehead on Combeferre's shoulder and closed his eyes; wishing his headache away. He still had his hands loosely curled into his friend's shirt and suddenly became aware of the throbbing pain in his arm, but he didn't comment on it. He caused them himself and so he deserved it, didn't he?

They sat in silence for another few minutes before Combeferre pulled back a little and carded his fingers gently through the thick blond hair. "I need to check your arm", he whispered softly and he squeezed Enjolras' neck reassuringly when he felt his friend tense. "Would you let me please?"

Enjolras nodded but didn't lift his head. He did however slowly stretch out his arm and shifted a little so that Combeferre could examine it. As soon as Combeferre's fingers touched his arm, Enjolras turned his head the other way in shame.

Combeferre winced in sympathy when he took in the damage Enjolras had done to his arm. A few of the healing cuts had started bleeding again and he had ripped some of his stitches. He sighed softly and traced the wounds lightly with his fingers. "I'll have to fix some of these stitches", he said quietly and he frowned sadly when he heard Enjolras sniff and got no other response than a short nod again.

He pushed his friend back so that he was sitting up straight against the head of the bed. Then he quietly collected his medical supplies and cleaned the bleeding wounds. He apologized in advance for the pain he was going to cause Enjolras as soon as he started to stitch the few opened cuts. Enjolras had turned his head away from Combeferre and his eyes were closed. He didn't make a sound.

When he was finished, Combeferre wrapped his friend's arm up with a fresh and clean bandage and whispered: "All done". He took in the sight that was Enjolras and bit his lip. His friend was an emotional mess; and the shame and embarrassment were practically radiating off of him. Whatever Grantaire did or said, it had surely left its mark on Enjolras. He was in a completely different state than when Combeferre came to talk to him and something told him that from now on, they would be making progress. Combeferre squeezed Enjolras' hand gently in the hope to win his attention. "The pain will fade away in time", he mumbled as he placed himself next to the blond on the bed and made sure their shoulders touched.

Enjolras nodded and glanced at his re-bandaged arm for the first time. He stared at it for a moment; disgust evident on his face. "I'm sorry", he whispered hoarsely again and pressed his lips together to refrain from crying, but it was no use. His shoulders started shaking and he brought up his good arm to try and hide his face.

Combeferre placed one arm around Enjolras' shoulders and the blond immediately leaned in to him. And just like that all the awkwardness and tension that had been building between the two friends for the past two weeks, ebbed away. They didn't need words for it. They just fit and there was a sparkle of hope lit in both of them. Hope that things would turn out okay in the end.

"You need to stop apologizing to me", Combeferre said quietly as he rested his chin atop of the golden curls. "It's not the first time you were being too stubborn for your own good, you know…I'm starting to get used to it", he added jokingly, but he immediately winced at his own words, fearing they were misplaced and too soon.

He relaxed however when Enjolras let out a half-laugh and nudged him softly in the ribs with his elbow. A small smile broke through his tears and the sound of Enjolras' laugh – however short it might have been – caused Combeferre to dare feel a little joyous for the first time since all of this happened.

They both fell silent again; but it was a comfortable silence. After a little while, Combeferre noticed Enjolras getting nervous. The blond was fidgeting with his fingers, blinked rapidly and bit the inside of his cheek. It was all too obvious that he wanted to say something, but did not know how to. Combeferre shifted and cleared his throat. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right Julien?" he said seriously.

Enjolras sniffed and nodded timidly. "I know", he whispered, "but it's hard, 'Ferre…I don't know how to…I want to, but I just…every time I try…I just can't." He ducked his head down and felt tears welling in his eyes again. But he didn't even try to hold them back this time.

"I'm afraid I've lost everything", he muttered brokenly.

"You haven't", Combeferre answered sternly, "You haven't lost anything, Julien and you won't lose anything either…If you'd just let me help you...You're going to be okay, mon ami…I promise things will be better again."

"I don't know if I can believe that…I don't …I don't trust myself anymore", Enjolras confessed so quietly; Combeferre had to lean in closer to hear it. Both of them knew what Enjolras was referring to and Combeferre felt his heart skip a beat. The idea of Enjolras continuing what he had been doing was just unacceptable. And to hear his best friend say he'd lost faith in himself hurt him more than anything.

"But you trust me, don't you?" Combeferre said gently, while carefully tracing his hand over Enjolras' bandaged arm. Enjolras watched Combeferre's movements with glassy eyes and nodded once.

"Well, I do believe in you and I do trust you. And I think you are one of the strongest people alive and I'm promising you that you are not lost. I'm not saying you will forget what happened, because I know that you will never forget…but if you let me help you, I swear to you things will get better; I'll be there every step of the way; we'll deal with this together and you'll come out of it even stronger and more determined than ever, you'll see. I believe that with all my heart Julien…I believe in you with all my heart. Just let me help you believe in yourself again…" he paused and locked eyes with Enjolras, who looked more lost than he ever had in his life, "Will you let me help you?"

Enjolras let out a half-sob and looked away from Combeferre again. He was afraid. He really was and that thought scared him, because he never was afraid and he didn't know how to handle that emotion. His eyes settled on his arm and another wave of self-loathing and disgust washed over him; immediately followed by that all too familiar feeling of needing pain. _I'm so messed up_, he thought and then it hit him. He didn't want this anymore. He didn't want to cause his friends pain anymore. So if he couldn't do it for himself yet, then he would do it for his friends. He looked back up at Combeferre, trying his hardest to keep his face straight, nodded firmly and grasped his friend's hand tightly as some form of anchor.

Combeferre smiled and pulled him back in his arms. "Thank God", he whispered and he laughed through his own tears. He held Enjolras close to him until the blond fell back into a very much needed sleep. Everything would be fine; it might be a hard and long road, but everything would be fine. Combeferre was sure of that.

TBC.

* * *

_(Alright guys! We're on the road to recovery :) Only one or two chapters to go I think…we're getting closer and closer to the ending. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please let me know what you think in a review? Thanks again!)_


	23. Chapter 23

_(Hi guys! Thanks again for all the lovely support you've given me. I feel so flattered that you don't want to see this story end. I have to admit, I find it very difficult too. I might continue it for a little longer...if you have ideas, please send them to me! For now, enjoy this chapter :))_

Enjolras woke up later that day after a good few hours of sleep. He was curled on his side and blinked up slowly at the chair next to him. It was empty. He noticed the door of the room was open however and he heard some shuffling and clattering coming from the living room. No doubt Combeferre was in there.

Enjolras' eyes fell on his bandaged arm and he lightly touched the white with his fingers. It created a small tingling feeling and Enjolras immediately withdrew his hand; afraid that he might feel the urge to do something else than just touching.

He let out a shaky breath and turned on his back to stare at the ceiling. He had absolutely no idea where to go from here. He felt just as lost as he did before his breakdown in front of Combeferre and he had no idea where to start from here. What would Combeferre expect from him? Was he supposed to just pour his heart out; to talk about the things that happened? He didn't know if he could. He didn't know if he wanted that. _It is too humiliating..._

He heard a loud clatter, followed by a curse and then complete silence, as if Combeferre was holding his breath while hoping he didn't wake Enjolras. And even though he felt miserable, the blond couldn't hold back the small smile that spread across his face.

It felt good to have Combeferre back. The tension and awkwardness between them had been suffocating and unnatural and Enjolras couldn't feel more relieved that they were no longer at odds. When he thought back to that morning he had expected to feel embarrassed about his impressive breakdown, but he didn't...not really. He wasn't proud of it, but somewhere he knew Combeferre understood him and he was sure his best friend wouldn't judge. And it had actually felt good to just let all those bottled up emotions go in the arms of Combeferre. His heated conversation with Grantaire was still very fresh in his mind, but he tried not to think about that right now even though his words had really stung.

Enjolras took a deep breath and tried to push himself up. He was still shaky and the infection and illness had clearly drained him from all energy, even though he had just slept a couple of hours. His bandaged arm hurt a lot when he put weight on it, but he tried to ignore that. He threw his legs to the side of the bed and stood on shaky legs. Then he carefully shuffled towards the living room and he silently prayed no one else would be there except for Combeferre.

* * *

Combeferre had sat with Enjolras a while after his friend had fallen asleep. He was still seated next to him on the bed and the blond leaned against him; as if he was seeking safety and security with Combeferre. The medical student was afraid that Enjolras would wake up if he moved and so he just stayed still and gently carded his fingers through Enjolras' hair.

He was still worried about his friend. So worried that it actually hurt. He was of course relieved that Enjolras had finally asked for help; had sought comfort with him, but the fact remained that his best friend; usually so strong and passionate, was now merely a shell of what he used to be. It killed him to see his best friend so broken and so lost. The complete opposite of what he actually was.

Combeferre knew, though, that the first step was made. And they could move forward from now on. He had no doubt Enjolras would find himself again, but he also knew it was going to take time and patience. It would be a road of trial and error, but Combeferre swore to himself that he would be there every step of the way.

How it had come this far was still hard for Combeferre to understand. There was the assault, yes, but then there were all these little things that seemed to build on that. And each misplaced word; each pitiful look had hit Enjolras harder than they should have, but only because the blonds' defences had already been weakened after that first attack. And then that second one had completely broken them down and Enjolras had been desperately trying to deny it; to fix it. And somewhere in that process his mind had turned against itself and Enjolras was left drowning with nothing to hold on to. And Combeferre feared he had been blind for most of it. He feared that he only stepped in when it was already too late.

Well, he was going to fix it. They were going to fix it together.

After little more than an hour, Combeferre decided to climb out of the bed and see if Courfeyrac and Grantaire were still in his living room. Enjolras stirred and opened his eyes to mere slits. When Combeferre tucked the blankets around him and gently squeezed his friend's hand, Enjolras fell back asleep.

Once in the living room, he found it empty except for a little note on the kitchen table. It was short and straight to the point.

_Combeferre,_

_Courfeyrac and I decided to give you and Enjolras some privacy. Figured he would feel more comfortable that way. I hope I didn't make things worse. Be in touch,_

_Grantaire_

Combeferre smiled a little and put the note in his pocket. Grantaire had undoubtedly been hard on Enjolras, but the latter apparently needed it. And even though he wasn't all too happy with having to re-stitch some of the cuts, he felt immensely grateful towards Grantaire. And he intended to let him know that as soon as he was able to.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that is was already three in the afternoon. It was a Friday and they usually had a meeting on Friday, but there was no way he or Enjolras were going to attend. He hoped Enjolras realized that too. He leaned against the door frame of his spare bedroom and watched his younger friend sleep. He looked pale except for his slightly red nose and his eyes, which were swollen, both from the crying earlier that day. He had curled his injured arm underneath his pillow so that it was hidden from sight. He stayed there for another minute, just watching, and then turned back to the living room.

He'd just read for a while and then prepare something to eat for both him and Enjolras. The blond hadn't eaten anything in three days, so he needed it to regain some strength.

* * *

After little more than two hours Combeferre heard the creaking of the bed and then some shuffling. He turned around from the counter and saw his friend slowly enter the living room. He looked nervous and far from steady on his feet.

"Hi", Enjolras said hoarsely while he walked to the sofa and sat down with a small sigh.

"Hey", Combeferre answered, smiling warmly at his blond friend who shifted uncomfortably on the couch and looked a little scared. "How are you feeling?"

Enjolras pressed his lips together, shrugged his shoulders and consciously pulled the sleeve of his shirt down to cover the bandages. "I don't really know", he muttered quietly.

Combeferre nodded. He was already more than happy that Enjolras didn't answer with his usual 'fine'. He walked up to the couch with two bowls of soup and a few slices of crunchy bread on a plate. "Are you hungry?"

Again, Enjolras shrugged. He looked really insecure, as if he was doubting everything his own mind came up with. "I don't know", he mumbled again and when he saw the expectant look on Combeferre's face, he added: "but I guess I can at least try some..." And he offered his friend a little smile.

Enjolras ate slowly and stopped to check if his stomach was handling it every minute or so, while Combeferre babbled away about some rare disease he had been assisting a doctor with for the last couple of weeks. Enjolras listened intently; happy that at least some things in his life felt close to normal again.

In the end Enjolras managed only half a bowl, but Combeferre was satisfied. He didn't want his younger friend to overdo it and risk him throwing it all up again. After they were both done eating, Combeferre and Enjolras sat in silence for a moment. Then Combeferre cleared his throat and turned to face Enjolras fully.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly, nodding at the Enjolras' left arm, "I can give you something if you want..."

Enjolras shook his head and tried to hide his arm some more. "It's okay", he mumbled and then he said with a small smile: "I'm kind of used to that arm hurting now anyway, so..." _I shouldn't have said that_. He frowned and looked up apologetically at Combeferre. "Sorry", he offered quietly.

Combeferre didn't say anything, but just looked at Enjolras expectantly as if he wanted him to continue speaking. After what had happened earlier that day, there was no way denying or postponing the fact that Enjolras wasn't okay and needed help. The blond nodded understandably. He knew that Combeferre was waiting for him to initiate that conversation, but he didn't really know how to. Then he took a deep breath and decided to just be honest.

"Combeferre", he started uncertainly, "I don't really know what you expect from me...I mean, I feel...miserable, you know that and I want you to help me, but I don't know where to start...I have honestly no idea...unless you want me to talk, but I don't think I can do that...or even if I want to do that..."

He felt his eyes tear up again and he cursed himself silently. He couldn't keep on crying all the time. _That's just pathetic_. When he looked up at Combeferre however, all he saw was understanding and somehow that unsettled him even more. How could he possible understand it, while Enjolras himself was lost.

"I don't expect anything from you yet, Julien", Combeferre began softly, "And I don't need you to pour your out heart to me if you don't want to do that. But you're going to have to talk eventually. And that can be completely in your own time. When you feel like it and when you're ready. Just remember that talking is dealing; is acceptance. If you don't talk about; if you don't let it out, you keep living in denial and that's what's gotten you where you are now in the first place. You need to accept what has happened to you instead of trying to forget it; only then you can move on."

Enjolras winced slightly and averted his eyes from Combeferre. He knew his friend was right and he wondered where he'd gotten this wisdom from. It sounded perfectly logical, but why then was it so hard to do it?

"It takes time and patience", Combeferre continued, as if he had heard Enjolras internal struggle, "And you'll feel better some times, but it's also very much possible you feel worse at other times. And all I really want from you for now is that you come to me when you don't feel good. Come to me when you fear you're losing control. Talk to me about what is bothering you; tell me when you feel angry, or guilty or sad or whatever. Don't bottle it up again. Don't shut me out."

Enjolras blushed a little and Combeferre knew he felt guilty. Then the blond nodded. "I think I can do that", he whispered shakily, but he still sounded a little insecure.

"You say you don't know where to start...Well, I've been thinking for a while", Combeferre spoke gently and he carefully took hold of Enjolras' uninjured hand, "How would you feel about it if you'd give up your apartment and come live with me here. I have a spare room...and it's not like we haven't talked about it before..."

At first Enjolras felt happy at hearing Combeferre's proposition but then he got a little suspicious. He frowned and suddenly pulled his hand back. "You don't trust me to be on my own...", he stated indignantly, even though he knew he had no right to feel indignant about that. "You think I'm going to hurt myself again." He winced as he said that out loud; somehow it made it all much more real.

Combeferre sighed and shook his head slowly. He'd known this would be the conclusion Enjolras would make and he had to think on how to approach this next without upsetting his friend again.

"That's not true, I told you I do trust you and I do believe in you", he said seriously, "But I remember _you_ telling me earlier that you don't trust _yourself_. And let's be honest, Julien, you're emotionally not all that stable right now. I just think you'll feel more comfortable and more like yourself when you're with someone you trust than all alone in your own apartment. Besides, we have been talking about you moving in with me even before all this happened, remember? I live closer to the Musain, it's easier on both of our finances and we can share our ideas and plans with each other. We pretty much spend all of our time together anyway."

Enjolras stayed quiet and Combeferre had to do his best not to sound frustrated.

"Don't turn this into something bigger than it is, Julien", he said patiently, "I'm not asking you this because I think you'll start hurting yourself again if I'm not around. I'm merely suggesting that you might feel better if you weren't alone with your own thoughts. And I like having you around, you're my best friend. It's just as much in my own benefit as it is in yours."

Enjolras swallowed nervously. Combeferre was right. Enjolras knew exactly what could happen if he was alone with his thoughts. They seemed to be out to make him feel even more miserable lately. And every time his own mind turned against him; telling him he wasn't worth anything; that he should feel ashamed; that he was disgusting, he felt the urge to pull out that knife again and make the screaming inside his head stop. Maybe, just maybe, if he wasn't alone...if he'd have someone to turn to; to talk to – as Combeferre had said – then maybe it would be easier to resist that urge...

He looked back up at Combeferre, pressed his lips together and nodded slightly. "Okay", he mumbled, "I think you're right...", he paused and then added, "yes, I will be your roommate." And as soon as he said those words, he suddenly felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. He felt relieved. And he smiled an honest smile for the first time since what felt like ages.

Combeferre's heart swelled when he saw his friend really smile again. "Alright, that's settled then. We'll see to getting your stuff here as soon as possible and deal with your landlady. I've heard she can be quite difficult?"

"Yeah, sometimes...", Enjolras mumbled and his smile grew wider. This might be actually really good. "You're going to have to make some place for me, though, I don't own much, but I do have my own book collection and by the looks of it, they don't fit into your bookcase."

Combeferre followed his friend's gaze and chuckled. His bookcase was indeed swamped. "I'm sure we can figure something out."

TBC.

_(So yeah, maybe just a few chapters more. It's hard to let this one go! And I want to give you all a look into Enjolras' recovery as well as some more Enjolras-Grantaire confrontations. So maybe another two or three to go :) I hope I'll be able to update again before I'm going on my holiday in Spain, I'll do my best. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter and review? Thanks!)_


	24. Chapter 24

_(So sorry for the long wait. It's been a hectic week with all the holiday preparations, but here it is anyway! Thank you all for the reviews, they mean a lot. This story is getting harder as it is coming closer to its end. This'll be the last chapter for the coming two and a half weeks. Hope you like it! Enjoy!)_

It took them only three days to get Enjolras permanently settled in the spare bedroom at Combeferre's apartment. Courfeyrac had been the one to convince Enjolras' landlady to let him move out on such short notice. She had swayed under his flirtatious smile and agreed to it as long as they were able to find her a new hirer right away or paid her one month rent in advance so that she had enough time to find someone herself.

Enjolras hadn't gone with Courfeyrac and Joly to collect the few things he owned, but stayed with Combeferre at his apartment. Ever after his breakdown earlier, he was reluctant to be on his own or with anyone other than Combeferre. He cared for his other friends a lot, but he felt too ashamed to face them. He'd rather just be with Combeferre even though they still didn't talk much – Enjolras was mostly quiet and sunken into thought – but he did make a lot of effort to be as near as Combeferre as possible without it being weird. Combeferre didn't complain though, on the contrary, he was happy to have his best friend around this much after weeks of tension and awkwardness. He did suspect however, that Enjolras was mostly staying so close because he was afraid to fall back into a particular habit that they had agreed upon he wouldn't ever do again.

Combeferre wished Enjolras would just open up a little more, but he knew that pushing his friend would get them nowhere, so for now he was happy to have his friend close and safe; giving him the perfect opportunity to just be there for him. They sat on the sofa together, waiting for Courfeyrac and Joly to return with Enjolras' stuff. They each had their own book, but neither of them could really focus on reading.

"Courf and Joly should be back soon", Combeferre said, trying to sound cheerful as he closed his book and walked over to the counter to get them both something to drink. He noticed how Enjolras followed his every move even though he pretended to be still engrossed in his book. "They asked me if they could stay for dinner...Joly wants to check your stitches and Courfeyrac just wants to see you I guess...spend some time with you."

This time, Enjolras snapped to attention and he looked up, looking slightly more pale than before. "Why does Joly have to check them? Can't you do that?"

Combeferre turned around to face his friend and offered him a sad smile. "I could, but Joly has more experience with them and therefore will make better judgements than I do." He walked back to the sofa and handed Enjolras a glass of water. The blond looked a lot less comfortable now that he knew Courfeyrac and Joly were about to spend part of the evening with them. Combeferre placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed softly. "They already know about it, Julien, and you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. Just try to see it as some friends visiting their other friends."

Enjolras gave Combeferre a tight smile and nodded once. He could do this; no big deal. It wasn't like he could avoid his friends forever...he had to face them some time, so why not just right away. He couldn't help but feel anxious though and every muscle in his body seemed to have tensed up. Combeferre, of course, noticed.

"Why are you reluctant to see them?" he asked quietly.

Enjolras shifted uncomfortably and looked to the ground. "I'm not", he stated softly, while he absentmindedly traced his fingers over his bandaged arm, not really pressing down, but not touching it lightly either.

Combeferre sighed and took Enjolras' hand away from his injured arm and clasped it in his own; forcing Enjolras to look at him. "We agreed that you would tell me when you didn't feel good, Julien. We agreed you wouldn't shut me out, now let me help you. Why don't you want to see them?"

"Why do you think?", Enjolras whispered brokenly and he looked back up at Combeferre, eyes shining with tears that he refused to let fall. "What must they think of me? I feel embarrassed...I'm a mess and I don't want them to see me like that..."

"They've seen you like this already, Julien", Combeferre began kindly, "And still they want to come and visit you, so that must prove to you that they don't think any less or bad of you. And even if it doesn't, they're your _friends_, Enjolras, and per definition that means that they're not coming over here to judge you, because friends don't do that." He paused and softly squeezed the smaller hand in his. "But because they are your friends, they do worry and they do care and that's why they want to see you...And you can't hold that against them...you've given them reason to worry, you know that."

Enjolras was silent, but did offer Combeferre a small nod. Deep down he knew that Combeferre was right, but that didn't really make him feel any less nervous about the whole thing. Before he or Combeferre could say any more however, there was a knock on the front door and Enjolras' body went rigid. Combeferre rubbed his back a few times and whispered: "Just relax, mon ami. It'll be fine, I promise."

Enjolras took a deep breath and watched Combeferre walk towards the door. He pulled a shaking hand through his hair and slowly got up from the couch as well. He heard how Combeferre greeted first Courfeyrac and then Joly and then he saw them all walk through the door; carrying big boxes full of books and clothes, which were the only things they brought back with them from Enjolras' apartment. That and his most treasured possession; a flag of France.

Enjolras smiled awkwardly at them and moved to take over some of the boxes, but they all dumped them on the kitchen table or the ground. Courfeyrac leaped towards the couch as soon as he had dropped his own box and let himself fall down on it, pulling Enjolras with him.

"Er, Courf? There are still boxes downstairs, you're not done yet", Joly said indignantly, but Courfeyrac waved him away and slumped down further into the cushions.

"I carried the heaviest one Joly _and_ I did all the work with the landlady. I deserve to relax now; 'Ferre can help you". Combeferre frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it and just settled for a loud huff. He turned around and followed Joly downstairs; leaving Courfeyrac and Enjolras behind.

* * *

Enjolras sat quietly next to Courfeyrac. He didn't really know what to say or where to start, but luckily Courfeyrac didn't seem to have any problems with that. "Your landlady Enjolras, I swear to God, she is one tough little lady. She had me doubting my flirting skills for a minute, but luckily she fell for them in the end. That shouldn't even surprise me of course...everyone wants a piece of me and I can't blame them." He laughed heartily, wiggled his eyebrows and patted Enjolras on the back.

Enjolras chuckled softly and shook his head. "You are unbelievable, you know that? I can't believe you pulled it off either...you've got some skills."

"All for you, my man. You sound surprised though, surely you've seen me and my skills in action before?", Courfeyrac exclaimed cheerfully as he let a devilish grin spread across his face.

"Too many times, I'm afraid", Enjolras sighed, "Sometimes I still have nightmares."

Courfeyrac snorted and shoved Enjolras' shoulder. "Shut up, you love me", he mumbled as he pried the book Enjolras was still holding away from his fingers. He examined it briefly and then pretended to be in deep shock. "You are reading a novel? Not anything political or historical, but you're actually reading something for the fun of it? With an actual storyline? I am impressed, you're not even officially Combeferre's roommate yet and he's already got you down to this."

Enjolras smiled slightly and took the book back from Courfeyrac. "It's quite enjoyable you know. Combeferre suggested me to read it to take my mind of...of...well, of other things", he whispered, smile fading a little and he looked away. He cursed himself for almost bringing the subject up he really, really did not want to talk about. He swallowed thickly and startled a little when he felt Courfeyrac take hold of his hand.

"Does it help?", Courfeyrac asked seriously and he softly squeezed Enjolras' hand in his.

Enjolras looked down at their hands and felt the knot that was his stomach untangle a little. "Yes, it does a little", he muttered quietly.

"Well, I'm glad it does", his friend said just as quietly and he took the book away from Enjolras again to place it on the side table. "But as long as I'm around, you don't need a book to keep your mind from dwelling into darker places. I offer way better distraction _and _I am much better company, you must agree with me on that."

And just like that, Enjolras felt all the embarrassment and anxiety he had felt before ebb away. There was no one better in making you feel accepted and loved than Courfeyrac. He always knew how to lighten any mood and Enjolras was grateful to call him his friend. He smiled honestly and cleared his throat. "I do, Courf...Thank you."

Before either of them could say more however, the front door opened again and revealed a flushed Combeferre and Joly, both clearly out of breath while carrying the last of the boxes. They sat down in the chairs opposite of Courfeyrac and Enjolras and needed a minute to catch their breaths. Courfeyrac couldn't suppress a wide grin and he gently nudged Enjolras with his elbow to get his attention. When Enjolras looked at him quizzically, Courfeyrac whispered loud enough for both Joly and Combeferre to hear: "If I were you, I'd put them on some sort of training program, because they are clearly out of shape and how are they going to fight the National Guard if they are exhausted after climbing a few miserable stairs."

Enjolras snorted loudly at that, especially after he saw the dark looks Combeferre and Joly threw their way. Combeferre raised one eyebrow at him, but Enjolras clearly saw the twinkling in his eyes when he let out a chuckle. Joly's expression remained cool as he looked at Courfeyrac. Then he turned to Enjolras with a deep sigh and said: "Shall we just get it over with right away? That is, if your lazy friend over here has enough energy left to remove his legs from your lap."

Enjolras' smile faded and he briefly glanced at Combeferre, who just nodded reassuringly. He really didn't want to do this now, but he knew that the longer he waited, the more nervous he was going to get. So he shoved Courfeyrac's legs away from him and got to his feet. "Yes, alright...I...uh...In the bedroom, I guess?"

Joly nodded and followed Enjolras to what was now officially his bedroom, looking back once at Combeferre for assurance which was given by him through a confident smile. He softly closed the door behind him and motioned for Enjolras to sit back on the bed. He then gathered some of the stuff he needed from his medical bag and sat at the edge of the bed next to Enjolras.

It was clear to Joly that his friend was extremely nervous. His lips were twitching; his hands were trembling and he was taking shaky breaths. He knew that one of the most important qualities of being a doctor was the ability to make patients feel comfortable and reassured. So he carefully took Enjolras' hand in his own and squeezed it gently to get his attention. When Enjolras looked at him, he smiled and mumbled: "It's just me, Enjolras".

Enjolras returned the smile, but immediately turned away again as soon as Joly started to remove the bandages. Joly didn't stop what he was doing, nor did he look up and try to catch Enjolras' eyes again. He did however, continue talking to his friend, both for Enjolras' benefit as his own.

"Why don't you want to look at your arm?", he asked in a calm voice. The question sounded genuine enough, but Joly didn't miss the way Enjolras flinched ever so slightly.

Enjolras did not answer right away; he just sat back silently with his eyes closed. "Because that will make it more real", he whispered honestly.

Joly nodded and pulled the bandages away completely. Then he took a cloth, drenched it in alcohol and carefully started to wipe the skin around the stitches and the stitches themselves. "They are real though", he stated matter-of-factly. "And not looking at them won't make them any less real, Enjolras. Denying them won't make them go away."

There was no judgement in Joly's voice; no bitterness or disappointment or pity. He was just giving Enjolras his honest doctor's opinion and Enjolras suddenly felt stupid to refuse to acknowledge the damage he did to himself. He slowly turned his head and eyed his abused arm. There were multiple stitched up cuts – the black thread a stark contrast with his pale skin – and then there were another few cuts that didn't need any sutures, but they were bright red and looked a little swollen. Enjolras knew those probably had been the cuts that got infected.

Joly felt a small smile tug at his lips when he saw that Enjolras had turned to look at his arm. The sharp hitch in his friend's breath however, wiped that smile away immediately. He looked up and sighed sadly at the broken expression on Enjolras' face. "They won't always look like this", he offered quietly, "They'll get better..."

"But they'll never fade", Enjolras interrupted. He didn't mean for it to come out as a question, because he already knew the answer, but he still couldn't keep the small trace of hope from his voice.

"No", Joly said sympathetically, "They'll turn into scars...I'm sorry Enjolras, but they'll never go away." He really was sorry. He wished there was something he could do to take away all the pain and the misery that seemed to have settled permanently in his friend's heart, just like the cuts had in his skin.

Enjolras nodded quietly and offered his friend a small smile. "It's okay", he whispered, "It's not like it's your fault, Joly..." He let out a sigh and closed his eyes again. "I guess it'll just have to serve as a constant reminder..."

Joly frowned but didn't ask of what exactly the scars were going to be a reminder of. He feared that the answer might be far from reassuring. So instead, he just got back to work in silence and made a mental note to tell Combeferre about this conversation .When he was done disinfecting the wounds and was about to bandage the arm again, Enjolras spoke very quietly; his voice small and uncertain: "Do any more of the Amis know about it?"

Joly sighed and looked up compassionately at his friend. At least this was something he was more comfortable talking about, because he had discussed this with Combeferre earlier. "You mean apart from Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Grantaire and myself?"

Enjolras nodded.

"No. Telling them about those cuts or keeping them in the dark is not a decision for us to make, Enjolras. It is in no way our place to tell the other Amis about this if you don't want us to. It is entirely up to you if you want to share this with them or keep it between us. And whatever you decide, we will follow your lead without question."

Enjolras glanced at his arm again. "Thank you".

* * *

The evening had – in the end – turned out to be the complete opposite of what Enjolras feared it would be. It was relaxed and felt like old times and Enjolras was even able to enjoy most of it. Courfeyrac managed to elicit a few real laughs from him and Combeferre couldn't be happier to hear his best friend smile again.

They were still in a very early stage of his recovery, but the most important things was that Enjolras was in fact recovering. With baby steps, one might say, but that did not matter. Every step in the right direction, was an important one. And the fact that Enjolras could enjoy an evening with his friends, who he had before feared would treat him differently and look down on him, and that he could be himself with these friends, was a valuable lesson to him.

Combeferre felt relieved and he was happy for his new roommate. He deserved to enjoy himself again after all the misery he had been through. And even though a fun and relaxed evening did not keep the nightmares at bay, both Combeferre and Enjolras himself knew he was making progress. And when Enjolras realized he was in fact making progress, he dared to allow that small tad of hope in his heart that told him maybe everything would turn out fine in the end after all. Maybe he could believe in himself again.

TBC.  
_  
(Phew, there we go. Please let me know what you think and review? Next chapter will probably be the last and will have the second Grantaire/Enjolras confrontation. _


	25. Chapter 25

_(My dear friends, the time has come. This will be the last chapter of 'No Place for a Revolutionary'. It pains me to say so, but I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Enjoy this last chapter and please, let me know what you think of this story in the end. I hope this chapter does not disappoint. Thank you all!)_

* * *

A week passed. Enjolras slowly, but surely started to find his way back to himself. It was a hard road and he knew it would probably take a long time for him to feel comfortable enough to walk the streets alone; to sleep a full night without having nightmares or to be able to feel bad without having the urge to find that knife…He still loathed the way he had handled things and he mostly felt too embarrassed to talk about what had happened. He was still carrying guilt, shame, anger and fear. And even though he felt a little better now, he knew very well that setbacks were possible. He was not even close to the person he was before all this happened, and he knew it might take quite some time to get there again. If he was ever going to get there again...

But still, he couldn't deny the fact that ever since he had broken down and allowed at least Combeferre to come close again, he had started to feel better. Because Combeferre was always there. Always ready to help whether it was to calm him down after a nightmare; to take his mind of things when he felt that specific urge to harm himself; to comfort him when he felt lost or scared. Mostly though, Combeferre was there to remind him that no matter what had happened, no matter what he might think of himself, he was loved. Loved by the people he cared so much about, loved by his friends. His friends who would never let him fall; who would always be ready to catch him.

Combeferre not only reminded him of the fact that he was loved; he also tried his hardest to convince Enjolras that no matter what had happened, people would always believe in him, because he carried a light within himself that was bound to shine again, even though it was dimmed right now.

And through Combeferre's reminders - whether that was by giving him a simple hug, coaxing him into allowing his friends to visit or forcing him to eat his plate – Enjolras slowly dared to believe in himself as well.

At first, he didn't tell Combeferre much, but he also knew he didn't need to. The medical student had this ability to read him and often knew so much more about him by just reading his body language than by actually talking to him. Of course, they did talk; Combeferre had his way of gently forcing Enjolras to open up to him whenever he felt bad and soon enough Enjolras would come to Combeferre willingly. Their already strong bond strengthened even further and after five days of Combeferre just being there for him; helping him and comforting him, Enjolras finally completely opened up. He told Combeferre everything that Louis and Antoine had done to him; said to him. He told him what nightmares he had and why he felt so guilty all the time.

It had been the most difficult thing to do, because telling everything meant that he had to relive everything and that had been far from easy. Again though, Combeferre was there every step of the way. He was understanding and honest; comforting and just. He did not cry with Enjolras, because he knew his friend did not need pity. He did not say that everything was alright, because it wasn't. He did not get angry when Enjolras told him why he was so disgusted with himself, because he understood why his friend felt that way, but he tried to explain to Enjolras in a logical way why he was wrong.

Yes, it was the hardest thing Enjolras had ever done, but it was worth it, because he felt better afterwards. He was relieved to have shared his story with that one person who knew him better than he knew himself. He felt more comfortable now that Combeferre knew exactly what he had been through and how he felt about it; it was a way for Combeferre to help carry the load.

* * *

After Courfeyrac and Joly came by a week ago, Enjolras had been reluctant to see any more of his friends. He didn't know what to say to them or how to act around them. In a way it had been easier with Joly and Courfeyrac, because they knew exactly what he had done to himself. There was no use in hiding it or trying to deny it. The others however, did not know about his cutting habit and Enjolras had decided that he didn't want them to know. Combeferre thought it would've been better if he did share that particular point with them, but he promised Enjolras not to say anything if that was his choice.

The result was that Enjolras had to come up with a story that was believable enough to explain why he hadn't been present at meetings. The fact that he was about to lie to his friends however, made him feel really guilty. So in the end, he decided to tell them a sort of half-truth about having a bad cold and needing time to collect himself after everything that had happened. He didn't give them any details and his friends were okay with that. They knew Enjolras well enough to know what he did and did not feel comfortable to talk about.

That week, all of the Amis had dropped by Combeferre's and his apartment to visit him and wish him well. Combeferre had been present at every time as well and Enjolras had been very happy about that. He was grateful to have a friend as Combeferre. The man knew him through and through and Enjolras didn't even have to ask him to be there. He just always was.

After that week, he had seen and talked to all of his friends, except for one. Grantaire did not stop by and Enjolras didn't ask Combeferre why. Of all his friends, Enjolras had been most reluctant to talk to Grantaire and each day the drunkard did not knock on their door, Enjolras could not help butfeel relieved. He knew though that they could not avoid each other forever. Soon, Enjolras would be participating at meetings again and he needed to clear the air between them. Combeferre agreed of course. He had been subtly pushing Enjolras to either invite Grantaire over or go to the Musain to confront Grantaire there. And each time he did so, Enjolras just as subtly waved the suggestion away or tried to change the subject. Until now.

He was sitting at the dinner table, working his way through a large bowl of soup in silence while Combeferre appeared to be busy studying. Enjolras nearly fell of his chair in shock when Combeferre suddenly slammed his book shut and walked over towards the table. He sat down in front of his blond friend and took a deep sigh.

"I am going to the Musain tonight", he said nervously, as if he had been planning to tell Enjolras this for a while, but was too anxious to do so. "And you are coming with me".

Enjolras frowned and dropped his spoon in the bowl. He knew exactly what Combeferre was doing. His friend had not left Enjolras alone at all since his breakdown a week earlier; he had been there practically every waking second, because he knew Enjolras didn't feel comfortable to be alone. He had been pressing Enjolras a few days now that it would be good for him to get out of their rooms for a bit, but every time he proposed to go for a walk or anything like that, Enjolras was quick to refuse. He had never before forced Enjolras to go out, but something told the revolutionary that Combeferre wouldn't back down this time. And that set him on edge.

"Combeferre", he began quietly, "I know what you're trying to do…I'm not ready yet, I'm sorry…"

Combeferre smiled at him and offered his hand. Enjolras hesitantly took it; it was Combeferre's way of letting Enjolras know that he'd always be there for him and Enjolras' way of showing his gratitude. "You're never going to think you're ready Julien, if you keep yourself locked in here. You need to see for yourself that there's nothing to be afraid of. You've already come so far this past week, you need to allow yourself to take that next step."

Enjolras cast his eyes down. He knew Combeferre was right; he knew that in order to fully heal, he needed to face his fears. But he was afraid he couldn't do this. Not yet. There were so many things that could go wrong. Only a week ago, he collapsed. Before that, he hadn't been doing well, but he was running on this weird sort of adrenaline. It kept him going. After he fully broke down however, every fear he had, intensified and he was completely drained of all energy, too uncertain of his own judgements and feelings. He didn't trust himself anymore and he was reluctant to trust the world outside Combeferre and his friends.

"I'm right there with you, Julien and we're only going to the Musain; see our friends; have a drink and a laugh and we can go back whenever you want."

Enjolras chewed the inside of his cheek. It wasn't just the fact that he had to go outside. That was only part of the problem that made his heart beat faster. He knew that if he went to the Musain, Grantaire was going to be there, and he didn't know if he was ready for that confrontation yet.

"It's not just about going outside, 'Ferre", he whispered.

"I know that. And that's partly why I'm going to insist that you're coming with me tonight. You know you need to talk to him, Enjolras. The longer you wait, the harder it's going to get. He has already taken the first step by coming to talk to you a week ago. It's your turn now."

Enjolras swallowed thickly. "He loathes me…he practically told me that. Why would he want to see me or talk to me?"

Combeferre shook his head. "That's not true. I told you that already. He was shocked to see what you were doing to yourself. He saw a lot of himself back in you at that point and that made him angry and scared. He cares a lot more about you than you think and that's exactly why he reacted the way that he did. According to Courfeyrac he asks about you every day. Grantaire could never loathe you Enjolras, you can safely trust me on that one."

Enjolras let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Alright then…if you think it would be good for me, I'll go with you. I trust you. But if I…if I don't….if things aren't…"

"We're leaving the second you've had enough or feel uncomfortable", Combeferre assured him, "but I do want you to try, Julien. Really try. Don't give up too soon, give it a chance."

When Enjolras nodded once more, Combeferre's smile grew and he softly squeezed his hand, before letting go again. Then he pointed at the unfinished bowl of soup and said: "Eat that first, we'll leave when you've finished it. And I want it to be completely empty, because don't think I haven't noticed you working your way around lunch this afternoon." The blond rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress a small smirk at Combeferre's mothering.

* * *

Little more than an hour later they were ready to go. Combeferre was excited to leave the apartment again and felt hopeful, because he was certain that this was going to be good for his friend. Enjolras was a lot less cheerful than Combeferre and kept pulling the sleeves of his shirt and jacket down in an unnecessary attempt to hide the bandages, because his clothing completely covered his entire arm.

"Stop fidgeting, Julien, no one can see anything, we've completely covered it up, but if you keep pulling at your sleeve, you're actually going to draw attention to it."

Enjolras stopped immediately. "Sorry", he mumbled quietly, "I'm just nervous".

"I know, but you don't need to be. I'm right here, now come on". And they stepped outside. Enjolras closed his eyes the second he left the safety of his and Combeferre's apartment. His heart was beating fast and he knew his hands were trembling and sweaty. He was afraid. He couldn't do this. It was too soon. But then there was a strong hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice nearby. "Deep breath and open your eyes, Julien. You can do this, I know you can."

Enjolras forced himself to do as Combeferre told him and he blinked his eyes open, but kept his head down. He breathed in deeply through his nose and shuffled a little closer to his best friend, so that their shoulders were touching. When he felt a light push against his back, he stepped forward. One foot in front of the other, and he focused on Combeferre's quiet words of encouragement. Soon enough, his heart had calmed down and he found himself secretly enjoying the fresh air and the familiar sounds of the city he loved so much. With every step he took, he felt more secure and he arrived at the Musain with his head held high and a small smile on his face. And Combeferre could've sworn he saw a hint of the old Enjolras right then and his heart warmed at the sight.

* * *

Enjolras managed to hold that small feeling of accomplishment all the way up to the backroom of the Café. But he lost it completely as soon as he got there, because the first person he saw was no one other than Grantaire. And Grantaire was staring at him with wide eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Enjolras blinked rapidly and looked away. He was panicking. _What do I do now? What do I say?_ When he looked up again, Grantaire had walked away and was now sitting in the corner of the Café with his back to Enjolras.

"Come", he heard Combeferre say quietly, "we'll start of easy", and he pulled Enjolras towards a table where Courfeyrac and Joly were seated. Soon enough they were joined by the others who were all surprised and happy to see their friend at the Café again. Within the hour, he had spoken to all of them; laughed with them and felt more like himself than he had in a long time. Combeferre had been right all along. His friends had not changed. He was almost able to forget about all that had happened. There was one person however who did not approach him: Grantaire did not leave his corner. He appeared to be busy drawing and Enjolras could not help but look over at him every other minute.

He thought about how Grantaire had been the first to know what happened to him, when he walked him back to the Café after that failed public speech. He had been the first person Enjolras had sought comfort with. He had been the one who came to his rescue. He had been the one who had made sure neither Louis nor Antoine would ever be a threat to him again. He had been the one who had pulled Enjolras out of his destructive downwards spiral. He had saved Enjolras' life in more than one way and it made Enjolras all the more nervous to go and talk to him as he realized this. Every time their eyes met, Enjolras flinched and quickly looked away again.

After little more than an gour, Combeferre and Courfeyrac pulled him apart. "Go talk to him", Combeferre whispered quietly and Courfeyrac nodded his agreement with an encouraging smile. "He has been wanting to see you, Enj, the two of you need to talk this over. You can keep on delaying, but it's not going to get any easier."

"Will you come?", Enjolras asked Combeferre and he cringed when he realized how childish he sounded. He was an adult, he needed to do this alone. He could do this alone. There were some things Combeferre could not help him with. And this was one of them.

Combeferre only smiled sympathetically and shook his head. "It's Grantaire, Enjolras…The man worships you, you can do this one alone."

Enjolras pressed his lips and nodded. He shared one last look with his two best friends, turned around and slowly walked over to the cynic. He wished his heart would calm down, because he was sure that Grantaire was actually going to be able to hear it pound if he came closer. He stopped right in front of Grantaire, but the latter did not look up. The man obviously had already seen him approaching, but chose to ignore him until Enjolras cleared his throat. The blond felt slightly annoyed, but forced himself not to let it show.

"May I join you?", he asked quietly and he cursed himself when he heard how nervous he sounded.

Grantaire raised his eyebrows and eyed Enjolras warily. Then he shut his sketchbook, motioned to the chair opposite of him and said. "Since when does the high and mighty Apollo ask me for my permission." He did his best to sound cynical, but Enjolras noticed the small tremor in his voice and the way Grantaire kept clenching and unclenching his fingers. Apparently he was just as nervous.

Enjolras sat down and forced himself to look Grantaire directly in the eyes. They watched each other for half a minute or so and then Enjolras looked away again. This might have been the first time Grantaire actually succeeded in staring him down. And to Grantaire that was completely wrong and he couldn't help but feel a little guilty. He watched how Enjolras fidgeted with his fingers and how a small sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead and he almost reached out to calm him down. But then Enjolras spoke. Very quietly.

"I'm sorry for what I said…"

This actually blew Grantaire away. Enjolras was apologizing? To him? Never would he have expected something like that. He was so shocked that the only way he knew how to react, was a sarcastic huff and a cynical "Well, well, that must have been the hardest thing you've ever done." He mentally kicked himself when he saw Enjolras flinch at his words and he bit his lip. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that…", he whispered quietly.

Enjolras swallowed nervously and looked up again. "It's okay, I understand…"

They were both silent again and Grantaire couldn't remember a moment in his life where he felt more awkward than he did right now. He quickly looked around the room and noticed how both Combeferre and Courfeyrac were watching them closely. When he looked back at Enjolras, he realized the blond was working hard to build up the courage to speak again and Grantaire decided to make it a little easier for him.

"How have you been?"

Enjolras let out a shaky breath and swallowed again. "I uh…", he began hoarsely and he cleared his throat again, "I think I'm doing better…I mean…well, better than before…"

"You look better", Grantaire grinned, " although even your darkest hours did not diminish your godlike beauty." He hoped this little joke could serve as a sort of ice breaker and his grin grew wider when he saw a small smile tug at the corner of Enjolras' lips.

"Combeferre's been a great help", Enjolras said honestly and he briefly looked up again, "I don't know if I'd be where I am now if it wasn't for him…"

Grantaire only nodded.

Enjolras closed his eyes for a second and shook his head once. Then he looked up again and this time he kept eye contact with Grantaire. "R, I'm sorry", he said again, "I should've never acted the way I did when you told me about your past. I…I can hardly imagine how it must have been for you and I feel really bad about the things that I've said. I was just in a really dark place, as you know and everything you said was just so shockingly right and it made me nervous and angry and I just lashed out at you when I should've actually thanked you, because if you hadn't told me all those things…if you hadn't confronted me about it all than I don't know how this would've ended, but I don't think it would've been happy…", He paused and let out a shaky laugh, "You had every right to be angry with me…I was angry with myself as well and I think you might have actually saved my life by forcing me to see what I was doing to the people who care about me. And I'm just…I really am sorry for what happened to you...and I want you to know that I don't judge you for the things you were forced to do. I don't know if it means anything to you, but I am not angry or upset about you working with them...I just wanted you to know that..."

Enjolras fell silent again, but he kept his eyes trained on Grantaire. He had been feeling guilty for the way he had reacted to Grantaire's story ever since the drunkard told him and in his head he had been practicing over and over how to apologize or what to say. Now everything came out jumbled and not at all as he would've wanted it, but at least it was out. He really wished Grantaire would say something now instead of just staring at him in awe.

"Wow…", Grantaire began, "I uh…thank you…That actually means a lot to me…" He stared back at Enjolras with an unfathomable expression on his face. "And you do not need to apologize to me…I understand why you reacted the way you did…I know how it feels…I mean, I've been there myself, haven't I?" He let out a nervous chuckle and averted his eyes again, suddenly very interested in his own fingers.

"I guess", Enjolras agreed quietly.

They looked at each other again and they both smiled a little, somehow more comfortable in each other's company now that these first words were said. Grantaire wanted to talk to Enjolras more; wanted to ask him questions; really know how he was doing and how he was handling things, but he was afraid Enjolras would should done if he did. Maybe the blond would think it was absolutely none of his business. He hesitated for another few moments and then decided to just go for it.

"So…things are better now? You don't…do that anymore?", Grantaire asked in a small voice.

Enjolras pursed his lips and shook his head; an obvious blush of shame visible on his face. "No", he said softly, "It's still hard though…I do think I'm doing better, not being on my own helps a lot, but sometimes…after a nightmare or a flashback or something…I do feel bad enough and I really have to fight that urge…I know it sounds pathetic."

"It doesn't…"

Enjolras raised an eyebrow and looked at Grantaire skeptically.

"It doesn't", Grantaire repeated, "It was an escape for you…not the best one, I admit, but hey…look at my own way of dealing. I'm…really relieved to hear you don't do that anymore, because to be honest with you Apollo, it really did not suit you. Not really your style in my humble opinion." He grinned at the blond and Enjolras snorted softly.

"Maybe not", he agreed hesitantly.

"Listen, I don't expect you to take me up on the offer I'm going to make you, but I just feel like I should at least propose it to you, because, well…I know I'm anything but the picture perfect example of someone who has dealt with his issues, but I _am_ someone who knows pretty much exactly what you're going through and I just want you to know that if you ever feel like…talking about it, to someone other than Combeferre I mean, I just want you to know that I'm always willing to be that person…" Grantaire's face had gone a slightly red when he was done and he nervously bit his lip. Maybe he had been too bold. What was he thinking? As if Enjolras would ever come to _him_ about this.

"Thank you", Enjolras said honestly, "I won't forget …" And when he smiled at Grantaire and reached out his arm to shake his hand , the cynic could have sworn his heart made all sorts of happy jumps inside his chest. He let out a shaky laugh and clasped Enjolras' hand in his own. "Okay then", he breathed happily. "Well, now that all this awkwardness is out of the way, how about a drink to celebrate it only took you one week to build up the courage to get back on your feet?"

A wide grin broke out on Enjolras' face and he genuinely laughed out loud. "I wouldn't say I'm back on my feet yet, but I guess I am exceeding everyone's expectations, so yes, why not. One drink." They joined the rest of the Amis and Enjolras shared a relieved look with Combeferre who smiled at him and subtly squeezed his shoulder. They stayed for another hour so until Combeferre was the one to tell Enjolras that it might be time to go back to their apartment again. The blond was still fighting the remnants of a fever and needed enough rest to build up his strength after suffering infection and blood loss.

"We can come back again tomorrow or the day after if you feel up to it", he promised Enjolras when his friend was obviously reluctant to leave the Café. "Say your goodbye's Julien, I'm serious here, I don't want you to overdo it." Enjolras knew Combeferre was right and he wished his friends a good night. He was once again flooded with praises and happiness of having him back and then he followed Combeferre outside.

* * *

At first they walked in comfortable silence. Enjolras still stayed close enough to Combeferre to make sure their shoulders brushed together, but he was clearly less nervous about stepping outside as he had been earlier that evening. And Combeferre did not miss the permanent smile that had been playing around his best friend's lips ever since he and Grantaire had had their conversation. They might still have a long way to go, but Combeferre was now more certain than ever that everything would turn out okay for his young friend in the end.

"Look at you, all grinning and cheerful", he said playfully and he nudged Enjolras with his shoulder, "I take it an 'I told you so' is in order?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but was not able to wipe the smile of his face.

Combeferre chuckled. "I told you so", he teased and he draped an arm around his friend's thin shoulders, "I told you everything would be fine tonight. I told you, you and Grantaire would be fine. I think you should listen to me more often, because it turns out that I was right about it all."

Enjolras snorted and tried to shove Combeferre away, but the medical student tightened his hold and pushed back, which resulted in Enjolras nearly tumbling over and yelping in shock. When he found his balance again he turned to Combeferre and mumbled seriously: "I always listen to you."

Combeferre smiled and ruffled Enjolras' hair. "I'm proud of you, Julien", he said quietly, "Tonight has not been easy, but you've done wonderfully. I've always known you would be able to climb out of the darkest pit and I'm happy you proved me right tonight."

Enjolras did not say anything; a sudden lump in his throat made it difficult to do so. He swallowed a few times and leaned closer to Combeferre. This had been good.

"I think I might have proven it to myself as well", he whispered quietly and he smiled as soon as the words left his lips. Combeferre ignored the sudden prickle behind his eyes when Enjolras said that. He was starting to believe in himself again. He was starting to believe that he would be okay. Things would be better.

The end.

* * *

_(I want to thank everyone who has followed this story from the first chapter till now. I cannot express in words how much your support means to me. It helped me to stay motivated and keep writing. I sincerely hope this last chapter has concluded the story in a positive way and I would be ever so happy if you took the time to tell me what you think. So please leave me a review :) It's hard for me to let this story go, but I've enjoyed writing it so much and I hope you have enjoyed reading it. Thank you all again so much. I am forever grateful)_


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